NATASHA KMETO Thurs 9/17 Doug Fir
Niki Rhodes

WEDNESDAY 9/16

RATATAT, HOT SUGAR
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See My, What a Busy Week!

MAN MAN, SHILPA RAY, YEAH GREAT FINE
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE César E. Chávez) Philadelphia's current blossoming music scene is built on the backbone of honest, vulnerable, and affecting lyrics, and the likes of Hop Along, Beach Slang, and Waxahatchee have all become focal points in a much broader movement of say-what-you-mean songwriting that holds nothing back. Having formed in the City of Brotherly Love in 2003, experimental rock outfit Man Man might have gotten their start during a different era of Philly, but the band's frontman, pianist, and principal songwriter, Ryan Kattner (AKA Honus Honus), has been baring his insides through fierce and forthcoming lyrics for more than a decade. It's an element of Man Man that often goes overlooked, mainly because of the band's one-of-a-kind, circus-like live show that has garnered them attention far and wide. Man Man's ability to craft a gripping and unique sound while delivering a furious emotional gut-punch has kept their extravagant live performance an absolute must-see. CHIPP TERWILLIGER

THE GROWLERS, THE PESOS
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) From their jangly, psychedelic surf-pop songs to their sun-drenched, hedonistic lifestyle, the Growlers are ideal poster boys for Southern California. Like their Burger Records compatriots, the Growlers have spurned traditional industry procedure by recording, designing, and releasing their albums themselves and by putting in long hours on the road to build up their fanbase. For their latest album, last September's Chinese Fountain, the Growlers brought in an outside producer for the first time, resulting in a more polished and mature recording ("mature" is, of course, relative). The songs on Chinese Fountain sound like they were written while doing nothing but getting wasted with the Black Lips and listening to "Sunny Afternoon" on repeat. Not that there's anything wrong with that. SANTI ELIJAH HOLLEY

CATTLE DECAPITATION, KING PARROT, BLACK CROWN INITIATE, DARK SERMON
(Analog Café, 720 SE Hawthorne) Sometimes it takes 13 years for a band to hit its stride. That was the case for San Diego's Cattle Decapitation. Not that the goregrind of the band's early days was bad, but the group's name was generally more memorable than its records. But a switch flipped on 2009's The Harvest Floor, which saw the emergence of a reinvigorated, more adventurous Cattle Decap. Their most recent, The Anthropocene Extinction, continues down the technical death-metal path forged on 2012's Monolith of Humanity. And while the new one doesn't reach the same heights as its predecessor—partly because the production leaves them sounding a little too mechanical—it's still light years beyond where they started. MATTHEW W. SULLIVAN

THURSDAY 9/17

DEF LEPPARD, STYX, TESLA
(Amphitheater Northwest, 17200 NE Delfel, Ridgefield, WA) See My, What a Busy Week!

THE GROWLERS, THE PESOS
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See Wednesday's listing.

POKÉMON: SYMPHONIC EVOLUTIONS
(Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) If you're of the emotional type and/or demographic for "Pokémon: Symphonic Evolutions," you already have your ticket. Like the Insane Clown Posse, Pokémon is a self-contained commercial empire; mainstream society really only understands the tip of the iceberg of that cultural monolith. The relentless commodification flows outward into video game tournaments, whole playing-card subcultures, various conference-cum-rituals around the world, and more. So naturally, the Pokémon Company (the people who literally get checks that say "The Pokémon Company" on them) has decided to branch out into symphonic renditions of music related to the franchise. If you file with dependents on your taxes, I'm sorry for your pocketbooks. MAC POGUE

HERCULES AND LOVE AFFAIR, CHANTI DARLING, VERA RUBIN, ROY G BIV, NARK
(Euphoria, 315 SE 3rd) In 2008, Hercules and Love Affair was the toast of the indie dance scene, thanks to their association with white-hot label DFA Records and the help of Antony Hegarty, who sang a pair of songs on the group's debut album. In the years since, the group—led by DJ/producer Andy Butler—has slipped off the cultural radar while still maintaining a rabid cult following who adore vintage-sounding, diva-driven disco and synthpop. What the world at large has missed out on are two follow-up albums, including the group's marvelous 2014 release, The Feast of the Broken Heart. It drizzles the influence of electro and deep house all over sensuous grooves and sweat-inducing yet politicized lyrics of self-reliance and sexual freedom. ROBERT HAM

NEON INDIAN, EXPLORER TAPES
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) Neon Indian’s glossy yet smeared chillgaze pop enjoyed a vogue in that 2009-2011 phase when American youth thirsted mightily for beach-friendly tunes that oozed out of speakers slightly out of focus and winsomely wispy around the edges. Masterminded by Alan Palomo, Neon Indian’s Psychic Chasms and to a lesser degree Era Extraña embodied that hazy, lazily danceable mode better than most in a crowded field. A newish single, “Annie,” sounds like mid-’80s Scritti Politti on a Caribbean holiday and the lead track (“Slumlord”) from Neon Indian’s new album, Vega Intl. Night School, is also vaguely tropical and funky, with Palomo’s voice to the fore and clearer than usual, because that’s how indie auteurs get more popular. I’ve been wrong in these matters before, but “Slumlord” sounds like a potential nocturnal summer boat party anthem that might even go BOOM on radio. DAVE SEGAL

NATASHA KMETO, SARA JACKSON-HOLMAN, SWAHILI, RAP CLASS
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) In an era where beat makers like Calvin Harris make their name by setting the stage for ingénue singers, Portland's Natasha Kmeto sets her own stage, taking the mic with a deft, on-point class all her own. Inevitable, her first full-length album in two years, follows Kmeto to a deeper level not only as an artist but also on her personal journey as a queer-identifying woman in the music industry. Opening with club-ready tracks "Inevitable" and "That One Thing," the album keeps the energy of her electric live show while digging deeper in her vocal complexities. Heart-pounding rhythms, soul-stirring drone, and playful synth are perfect counterpoints to her creamy coffee voice, showcased nowhere better than on Inevitable's stirring finale, "Your Girl." A pioneer for women beatmakers, Kmeto keeps raising her own bar, no doubt continuing to take fierceness to new levels. JENI WREN STOTTRUP

SIOUX FALLS, MO TROPER AND THE ASSUMPTIONS, DRUNKEN PALMS
(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) Among Portland DIY bands it would be hard to find one with as rewarding a catalog as Sioux Falls. Guitarist and vocalist Isaac Eiger and bassist Fred Nixon have been playing together since they were 15-year-olds in Bozeman, Montana, and rotated between six drummers before settling on Ben Scott. The group self-released three EPs before releasing a split with Portland four-piece Snow Roller called Fadeaway. With Sioux Falls, one song ends up becoming a 73-minute-long existential anxiety attack with each micro-tragedy building on the last, and you slowly forget that you're alive until the last notes are finished and you realize you're in a room with all of your friends. It may seem long overdue, but the post-punk trio has finally finished recording their debut LP. And if it's in line with Sioux Falls tradition, it will be emotionally dense and will leave you confused as to just how these still remain pop songs. CAMERON CROWELL

FRIDAY 9/18

DESTROYER, FROG EYES
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) See My, What a Busy Week!, and read our article on Destroyer.

TBA: DECIBEL NIGHT: LAPALUX, STRATEGY, RAICA
(TBA's The Works at the Redd, 831 SE Salmon) Seattle's premier electronic music and new media festival, now in its 12th year, comes to town in collaboration with TBA, featuring three artists that reflect cutting-edge style and innovation, as they present impressive live audiovisual works. Lapalux (Stuart Howard), from Flying Lotus' Brainfeeder imprint, continues to pull listeners into his hypnotic sway of silky hip-hop brushed by delicate and bewitching voices. Raica (Chloe Harris) is co-founder of the influential Further Records, and she presents Dose, an experimental work that defies classification via live analog hardware. Portland's own Strategy (Paul Dickow) is celebrated for his DIY approach to lo-fi dub electronic, and he gives listeners a taste of the many-layered colors of deep musical examination. CHRISTINA BROUSSARD See My, What a Busy Week!

MANDARIN DYNASTY, MOMMY LONG LEGS, GOLDEN HOUR
(Turn! Turn! Turn!, 8 NE Killingsworth) This summer Seattle's Mommy Long Legs has, among other things, played a backyard sweet 16 and shared a stage with Mudhoney. It says a lot about the kind of band they are and perhaps indirectly explains why, less than a year into their existence and without the backing of a label, they're causing such a fuss. The band's horror-tinged, social commentary party punk is part Shannon and the Clams, part the Cramps, and the perfect antidote to the uptight, overproduced nonsense we let pass for indie music in 2015. With critiques of both rampant consumerism and unchecked privilege, Mommy Long Legs could also be viewed as a necessary response to the clean-cut playgrounds for the rich that Seattle and Portland are threatening to become. In the best possible way, Mommy Long Legs reminds me of a scene from an '80s movie I saw on USA Up All Night as a kid, where a punk busts into the preppy party and pukes on everything. JOSHUA JAMES AMBERSON

EMPIRE OF THE SUN, ST. LUCIA, HOLY GHOST
(Edgefield, 2126 SW Halsey, Troutdale) The Sleepy Jackson's Luke Steele doubled down on the theatrics for Empire of the Sun, his dance-music collaboration with Pnau's Nick Littlemore. The excessive pageantry is a good thing, too, because judged solely on musical merits, Empire of the Sun is drably anonymous, almost invisible. You've heard these songs in countless coffee shops without even noticing them. But live, the project's costumes, visuals, and dancers turn these repetitive roboto-pop tropes into full sensory assault. Mushing together samurai styling, Egyptian motifs, and science-fiction imagery, Empire of the Sun's performances are bizarre rituals of nonsense that, while supremely silly, end up being pretty darn mesmerizing, too. NED LANNAMANN

THE VIBRATORS, ALL OUT, DIRTY LOWDOWNS, BOMB SQUAD, ERIN COOKMAN
(Ash Street Saloon, 225 SW Ash) Seminal UK punks the Vibrators have at least two classic records to their name: Their debut, Pure Mania, is a perfect distillation of what made (and continues to make) punk so appealing, infusing a strong pop bent that was rivaled at the time only by Paul Weller and the Buzzcocks, playing with an unselfconscious zeal and breakneck precision. (The band's most enduring hit, "Baby, Baby," is, ironically, a rigidly mid-tempo anthem.) Follow-up V2 also rules, and saw the Vibrators starting to experiment with more intricate song arrangements and studio legerdemain (I bet they thought that phaser was really fucking cool at the time). Tonight the band play its second Portland show in three years, albeit with a lineup that only includes one original member, drummer John "Eddie" Edwards. MORGAN TROPER

GENIUS FEST: PERIOD BOMB, MISTER TANG, POLYGLAMOURY, UNICORN DOMINATION, MAN REPELLANT, TIG BITTY, TWO MOONS
(Anarres Infoshop, 7101 N Lombard) "Hey, I've got a problem." "What?" "I accidentally booked a seven-band bill. What do I do?" "Easy. Call it a festival." The apparent through-line of Genius Fest's lineup is the bands' demented demeanors and oddball status within the Portland scene. Highlights include the weirdo garage spasms of Mister Tang, a pair of Oblivians-worshipping Portland natives, and Two Moons, a newish project of immaculately arranged pop, rechanneled into a thrashing garage/power-pop format for live shows. My candidate for most fun set might be Tig Bitty (is that French for something?), two almost-aggressively sex-and-weed-positive rappers whose party jams are a rare treasure in a scene lush with guitar rawk. MP

CHAMELEONSVOX, SOFTKILL, SHADOWHOUSE, DDDJJJ666
(Star Theater, 13 NW 6th) Under the name ChameleonsVox, singer/songwriter Mark Burgess has been able to continue performing the music he created with his pioneering post-punk/proto-goth outfit the Chameleons on his own. It's mostly an issue of legality and semantics, really. That said, this could very well be the last time you get to hear Burgess perform these tunes in Portland. The 55-year-old Mancunian is putting an end to long international tours due to the bitter financial realities of the modern music industry. Still, it's going to be a great sendoff as he and his band will be performing the Chameleons' debut album, Script of the Bridge, in its entirety, so you can hear how Burgess took the moody pulse of Joy Division and infused it with his interests in psychedelic rock, early synthpop, and deeply expressive lyrics. RH

SATURDAY 9/19

TORO Y MOI, ASTRONAUTS ETC.
(Revolution Hall, 1300 SE Stark, #110) See My, What a Busy Week!

KRAFTWERK
(Keller Auditorium, 222 SW Clay) Read our article on Kraftwerk.

KINSKI, HIGH PRAISE, NECKLACE
(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) After a busy early 2000s, Kinski took six years to follow its 2007 album, Down Below It's Chaos, with 2013's Cosy Moments. Now, the Seattle band is back already with another new record called 7 (Or 8), released by Kill Rock Stars in June. "It always takes us a while to write a record but this one came quickly," says guitarist Chris Martin on Kinski's website. "We've stopped worrying about it so much and just get on with it." Excellent call. You can hear that sense of urgency all over 7 (Or 8), embedded deep in the band's gnarled, burly garage-psych, which sounds like a cross between Sonic Youth and Monster Magnet. The guitars are grimy. The bass is buried deep in fuzz. The drums push ever forward. 7 (Or 8) is simply a great rock record by a great rock band, and missing Kinski at the Know would be a big mistake. BEN SALMON

THE SKULL, AUTHOR AND PUNISHER, MUSCLE AND MARROW, SHRINE OF THE SERPENT
(Star Theater, 13 NW 6th) When seminal bands split into two camps, it's hard to know who to trust. Consider Chicago doom titans Trouble. On one side, there's the band that retains the name and features both original guitarists. On the other side, there's the Skull, featuring vocalist Eric Wagner, bassist Ron Holzner, and drummer Jeff Olsen, two of whom are original members of Trouble, and a third who played on a bulk of their catalog. You'd think that the band with the original name and guitarists would be the one to trust, but in this case, you'd be dead wrong. Last year the Skull released their debut record, For Those Which Are Asleep, and completely blew Trouble's most recent album out of the water. Asleep has the classic doom sound you'd want from a band containing some of the progenitors of the genre. It has seriously weighted riffs with a dark morose vibe played at crawling speeds. Of course, Wagner's buttery voice helps their case too. If you're looking for quality doom that harkens back to the early '80s sound, the Skull is what you want. ARIS WALES

MOON DUO, NURSES, SPECTRUM CONTROL
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) While the psychedelic rock of Moon Duo began as a side project for Wooden Shjips' guitarist Ripley Johnson, the band's strong and steady output since 2009 has established the group as a fully formed vehicle of its own. Initially made up of guitarist/vocalist Johnson and keyboardist/vocalist Sanae Yamada, Moon Duo recently expanded to a trio with the addition of drummer John Jeffrey. The new lineup might fly in the face of the band's name, but Jeffrey's addition allows Moon Duo to further explore the cosmic reaches of their droning, noisy take on krautrock. Yamada's synth-driven bass lines remain mesmerizing, and the new drummer adds a playful dynamic to the band's live shows. The evolution was well documented on last year's live album, Live in Ravenna, and the trio's latest, Shadow of the Sun, which was recorded after their move to Portland, finds them locking tightly into refreshingly danceable grooves. CT

BLONDE REDHEAD, DAY WAVE
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) Blonde Redhead's latest album, 2014's Barragán, was almost universally hated on by music critics. The critical reception to 2010's Penny Sparkle was similar: Blonde Redhead shouldn't play with electronics, or really be playful at all, and should instead do another serious, air-tight conceptual album. This narrow-minded view seems to forget that constant evolution has been one of the most exciting things about Blonde Redhead and, even at their least interesting, they're a lot more interesting than most bands. That said, Barragán is certainly not their best album—and given the greatness of most of their records, it might actually be their worst—but it's refreshing to hear a band two decades into its career release something so unassuming and free from the boundaries of previous definitions. And in a music climate of reunion tours and reissues, we should be happy they're following their creative vision instead of going for the easy sell. JJA

GLOBELAMP, APPENDIXES, GOLDEN HOUR
(Mother Foucault's Bookshop, 523 SE Morrison) Somewhere in Olympia, hidden behind an empty Coors rack and an oogle's mandolin case, is a wardrobe with a direct connection to Laurel Canyon. For a town known for its wide-eyed twee and (recently) arty, inverted hardcore, there's a bubbling resurgence of '70s psychedelia, stemming from the era when bowls of coke slowly started to replace tabs of acid, and Blue Blockers turned the sky an orange blaze. Olympia's Globelamp has appeared from this thicket, along with Generifus and other Guest House-affiliated bands, towing an impressively hermetic collection of songs (released as Star Dust) that slouches toward Bethlehem with all of the dread of the aftermath of the Summer of Love, but infused with the scrappy did-it-myself-because-no-one-else-would-help charm of Washington's capital city. MP

SUNDAY 9/20

PATTI LABELLE
(Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) See My, What a Busy Week!

HUM, MINERAL
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) The glut of mid-'90s alterna-grunge bands was staggering. The Nirvanas, Pearl Jams, and Soundgardens spawned the Toadies, the Candleboxes, and the Seven Mary Threes until it all started blurring together into one fuzzy Charles Peterson photo. Then there was Hum. The Champaign, Illinois, four-piece was intriguing even at the time—incorporating familiar grunge touchstones but taking them a step further with precision riffing and subtle dips into psychedelia. Two decades after finding success with the single "Stars," from their major label debut You'd Prefer an Astronaut, Hum is typically looked at as either another one-hit wonder or a massively underrated cult band (they also released an excellent follow-up with 1998's Downward Is Heavenward). Deeper listens point to the latter. The members of Hum creep out occasionally for performances. And those who attend already know the band's influence probably reaches farther than most people realize. MARK LORE

KARYN ANN, STEPHANIE SCELZA, PRETTY GRITTY
(The Secret Society, 116 NE Russell) Karyn Ann started the way most acoustic singer/songwriters get started: by lugging a beat-up guitar around to local open mics and coffee shops. But she is finally beginning to outgrow the open mics and gain respect in her own right, as a skilled songwriter and a confident singer. Karyn Ann's influences range from Bonnie Raitt to Brandi Carlile, but her low contralto voice could be best compared with a singer like KT Tunstall. Tonight she'll be celebrating the release of her second album, Into the Depths, an impressive eight-song collection of acoustic soul and Tapestry-era singer/songwriter ballads. It's a long slog from the dim coffee shops to the bright lights of the stage, but Karyn Ann is well on her way. SEH

REVOCATION, CANNABIS CORPSE, ARCHSPIRE, BLACK FAST, VELERAAS
(Analog Café, 720 SE Hawthorne) Like Cannibal Corpse? Like weed? Like puns? That's the unholy trinity worshiped by Cannabis Corpse. Started as a side-project by Municipal Waste bassist Landphil Hall, the band is a full-on tribute to early death metal, with albums like Tube of the Resinated packed with riffs that could've easily been lifted from Cannibal's Tomb of the Mutilated (see what they did there?). They even got original Cannibal Corpse vocalist Chris Barnes to do a guest spot on their last album on a song called "Individual Pot Patterns" (see Death's Individual Thought Patterns). They're opening for tech-heavy death-thrash Revocation, whose shredding might harsh your mellow a little bit. MWS

LULUC, KEVIN LEE FLORENCE
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Luluc's show tonight happens a full 14 months after the release of their gorgeous sophomore album, Passerby, which is right in line with this Australian duo's completely unhurried aesthetic. Woven around the delicate playing of Steven Hassett, the enchanting voice of Zoë Randell, and production by the National's Aaron Dessner, Passerby is the musical equivalent of lying in the grass and staring up through a warm breeze at a sky full of stars. This is downcast folk music that rewards great patience—Passerby's charms unfold slowly and assuredly, and when they've fully bloomed, they shimmer with understated grace. There's also a timeless quality in Luluc's music: Passerby may be more than a year old, but its stature continues to grow. BS

MONDAY 9/21

Happy birthday to the twin titans of the Canadian arts: Leonard Cohen and Dave Coulier! You both have done your nation proud.

TUESDAY 9/22

GABI, JOHANNA WARREN
(White Eagle, 836 N Russell) GABI—Brooklyn's Gabrielle Herbst, who's joined by a band for live performances—is a spellbinding vocalist/composer in the vein of Holly Herndon, Hanna Benn, and Kate Bush. Sympathy, Herbst's 2015 album for Daniel Lopatin and Joel Ford's Software label, racked up an impressive 8.0 rating from Pitchfork's premier critic, Philip Sherburne. No wonder: It's a tour de force of subtly beautiful electronic-orchestral art compositions dominated by Herbst's feathery, dulcet incantations. Standout "Love Song" even recalls the hallucinatory enchantment of White Noise's immortal "Love Without Sound." Sympathy strikes just the right balance of gravitas, pathos, and ethereality. DS