Up & Coming 

THURSDAY 10/29

PDX POP NOW! BENEFIT: BRITT DANIEL, THE ROBINSONS, IOA

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See My, What a Busy Week, and go here for our interview with Britt Daniel.

SALON D'MERDE: DEATH BY DOLL, THE MOONSHRINERS, JUDSON CLAIBORNE, JOSH AND CHARLOTTE

(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) See My, What a Busy Week.

FALL INTO DARKNESS: EARTH, SUBARACHNOID SPACE, KAWABATA MAKOTO, ?ALOS

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Kawabata Makoto leads prolific psych-rock behemoths Acid Mothers Temple, but on his own he often opts for beatific guitar emanations that suggest a strict regimen of Zen Buddhist meditation rather than AMT's grandiloquent jamming and sonic holocausts. You could say the man loves his extremes. The Inui series of albums Kawabata's recorded for VHF Records—as well as I'm in Your Inner Most and Hosanna Mantra—stands as a beautiful, solemn monument to his mellower inclinations, but you should probably bring earplugs, just in case the Japanese ax master gets into one of his ornery moods. DAVE SEGAL Also see Music.

CHIX W/STIX: PURPLE RHINESTONE EAGLE, HOT VICTORY, PALO VERDE, BROKEN WATER, L TRAIN

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) I'd say we're almost at the point in Portland where you can put on a show with an all-female bill and no one bats an eye. Almost. This night of girl rock is actually more noteworthy for the sheer quantity of ass these bands kick than for anything else. There's the dueling drum kits of Hot Victory, which reconstruct rhythm into dizzying structures of noise, and there's the murky stoner rock of Purple Rhinestone Eagle. And there's Palo Verde, the duo of drummer Lauren K. Newman (LKN) and guitarist Terrica Kleinknecht, whose telepathically improvised slabs of sludge-metal riffing are brutal punishment of the very best kind. NED LANNAMANN

FRIDAY 10/30

FALL INTO DARKNESS: AGALLOCH, AMBER ASYLUM, SORIAH, FAUNA

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See Music.

HOOTS & HELLMOUTH, WILLIAM ELLIOTT WHITMORE, JENNY HOYSTON

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) William Elliott Whitmore has a deep voice. Deep, like James Earl Jones trapped in a well. Hell, even that doesn't do it justice. The Iowa bluegrass troubadour deals in heavy imagery from a bygone era of boxcar adventures, calloused workingman hands, and small-town church tales about the soft seduction that the devil brings. His voice—it's deep, remember—is his main draw, and even when he caresses the guitar or thumps the banjo, his vocal delivery is enough to send a row of shivers cascading down your spine. You've been warned. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

CASPA, GENO COCHINO, RONIN, TYLER TASTEMAKER

(Crown Room, 205 NW 4th) Dubstep heavyweight Caspa is a leading influence for the bigger, harsher side of the wobbly sound. On top of running prominent record labels Sub Soldiers and Dub Police, he hosts a regular night at London's Fabric club, produces tirelessly on his own (plus with his pal Rusko), and travels the globe more frequently than most heads of state. He's extended his own popularity along with the notoriety of dubstep, with remixes for Depeche Mode, Kid Sister, and Deadmau5/Kaskade. His new album, Everybody's Talking, Nobody's Listening!, comes out in a few weeks and is packed full of huge, anthem-heavy tracks that will no doubt propel Caspa even further into the limelight. AVA HEGEDUS

LUCERO, JACK OBLIVIAN, JOHN PAUL KEITH AND THE ONE FOUR FIVES

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) When you try to conceptualize Lucero, if you think Rancid before you think Toby Keith, then you're starting in the right place. The most divisive thing about the punk/country band is singer Ben Nichols' voice—a cohesive blend of Tim Armstrong's snarl and Drive-By Truckers' Patterson Hood's weathered rasp—and it's just what you would expect from a band from Memphis that grew up listening to "Ruby Soho" and decided to play rock 'n' roll. But there is strength and acumen in his growl and it doesn't come off as affected as it might sound. This is the kind of music that sells a lot of drinks; if I were a bar owner I'd try to put Lucero on the bill as often as I could. BART SCHANEMAN

RASCAL FLATTS, DARIUS RUCKER

(Rose Garden, 1 Center Ct) Halloween may not be until tomorrow, but this is truly the night of terror.

SATURDAY 10/31

STARFUCKER, DEELAY CEELAY, NICE NICE, WAMPIRE

(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) See My, What a Busy Week.

FALL INTO DARKNESS: YOB, LUDICRA, WITCH MOUNTAIN, ATRIARCH

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See Music.

BEST LITTLE HORROR HOUSE IN PORTLAND: RED FANG, THE BUGS, & SPECIAL GUESTS

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Usually, this rag of ours gets our All Hallows' Eve fill by dressing up the paper for a week, but since this year Halloween fell on a weekend ("Me and Geto Boys are trick or treatin'") we decided to host a little party at the Doug Fir. In addition to various theatrical ensembles acting out all the glorious bludgeoning and stabby-stabbings that make this day so great, the sinfully evil boys of Red Fang will be taking the stage to rattle some skulls. All of this can be yours for the wallet-friendly price of free, but you have to come in costume (it's $8 otherwise). Look for me, I'll be dressed as a Juggalo and doing whippets in the parking lot. EAC Also see My, What a Busy Week.

BABA YAGA BALL: VAGABOND OPERA

(The Woods, 6637 Milwaukie) In Russian folktales, Baba Yaga was an old hag who flew around in a mortar and pestle and lived in a house that stood on top of a pair of chicken legs. At tonight's Baba Yaga Ball, hosted by gypsy klezmer band Vagabond Opera, there will be an "ancient fire ritual" in the old Russian witch's honor, alongside an altar installation and communicating with dead spirits. Considering this will all take place in a funeral home, it actually sounds kind of scary—but then you remember that Baba Yaga is make believe and ghosts are not actually real and an "ancient fire ritual" won't actually do anything. So, this could be a silly, weird way to have your Halloween fun. They're asking that you dress as an "ancestor or related being," but that probably doesn't mean to show up as your Uncle Chet, in a costume of Fritos stains and tufts of back hair emerging from your ripped Coors tank top. NL

BLACK ELK, DIAMOND TUCK AND THE PRIVATES

(Rontoms, 600 E Burnside) Hatched from a protoplasmic ooze with the sole intent of crushing you beneath his snarling yelps and howls, Tom Glose of Black Elk screams through piercing guitar riffage and thundering drums on 2008's Always a Six, Never a Nine, the follow up to their self-titled debut. Reminiscent at times of the Jesus Lizard (Glose sounds like Yow after gurgling whiskey), Black Elk incorporate spastic keyboard jingles and a few ambient folk moments on Always a Six—proving their metal might, but also tinkering with noise rock staples and '90s prog. Tonight's midnight show is a kickoff to their European tour. It's $5. And it's Halloween. Go wild. PHILIP GAUDETTE

CITIZEN FISH, STAR FUCKING HIPSTERS, MOLOTOV COMPROMISE

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) Dick Lucas passes through Satyricon a few times a year—if he played anywhere else, it just wouldn't feel right—fronting both the Subhumans and tonight's headliner, Citizen Fish. Never a fan of shirts with sleeves, or deodorant, Lucas has nicely nestled out a role as punk icon for the dumpster-diving set, a no-frills frontman who never strays from his political roots, whether it be in the driving urgency of the Subhumans or the ska-tinged Citizen Fish. The Fish haven't released a proper full-length since 2001, but they exist in a timeless bubble, one where it's still completely acceptable to be a ska band in 2009. Joining them will be the StarFucking Hipsters, a band that definitely did not just change their name to Pyramid. EAC

VOODEUX, AMP LIVE, MARTY PARTY

(2410 N Mississippi) Voodeux couldn't possibly be a more perfect fit for an all-night dance party on Halloween. The duo of Tanner Ross and James Watts (AKA KiloWatts) produces some of the eeriest techno out there. The Paranormal, their recent album on Claude VonStroke's Mothership imprint, is full of sinister mystery—tracks like "Skeleton Key," "Heebie Jeebiez," and "Bones" consist of bizarre half-animal, half-cyborg sounds, weirdo laughs, and horror movie effects. The twisted aesthetic is anything but a gimmick—Ross and Watts are pushing a creepy new sound, but they are both seasoned tech house producers with the sense and expertise to erupt dancefloors. AVA

SUNDAY 11/1

THE REVIVAL TOUR: CHUCK RAGAN, JIM WARD, FRANK TURNER, WATER TOWER BUCKET BOYS, AUSTIN LUCAS, AUDRA MAE

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week.

BROADCAST, ATLAS SOUND, THE SELMANAIRES

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Also see My, What a Busy Week.

ART BRUT, PRINCETON, DIRTY DUDES

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music.

SALLIE FORD AND THE SOUND OUTSIDE, THE MONARQUES, SEAN FLINN

(Rontoms, 600 E Burnside) See Music.

REGINA SPEKTOR, JUPITER ONE

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Regina Spektor plays that sort of soapy-clean, piano-driven songwriter pop that should be intolerable, but she kind of pulls it off. It's not because of the quirkiness of her lyrics (and, dear lord, is Spektor ever quirky), or her sylphic voice, or her everygirl persona, which acts as the warm, goofy-cousin antidote to Tori Amos' frosty ice queen. It's because Spektor writes melodies—good melodies—that get stuck in your head without collapsing under their own weight. With a strong melody, you can just about get away with murder—and Spektor does, all throughout her new album Far, which includes a song whose chorus is made up of her singing the words "eet, eet, eet." NL

MONDAY 11/2

THE CHINESE STARS, ALL LEATHER

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) I once watched a pair of heterosexual male musicians drunkenly make out with each other while trying to grab the asses of random guys on the street outside of CBGB. Were they trying to be funny? Controversial? I wasn't sure. As a bona fide fag, I merely found it annoying. All Leather feature three straight boys (including the Locust's Justin Pearson) playing delightfully grating no wave with a faux-gay, anti-assimilation aesthetic. The songs are awesome. The shtick, however, occasionally reminds me of those two clowns in the Lower East Side. The Chinese Stars, on the other hand, share All Leather's combination of lascivious lyrics, dance beats, and squalling guitars, yet their vignettes of heterosexual perversion are more deliciously subversive in their honesty. BRIAN COOK

TYVEK, LITTLE CLAW, ETERNAL TAPESTRY

(East End, 203 SE Grand) Though the band attempts to confuse people by often changing the spelling of their name (their MySpace page alters between Tyvek, Tyjvek and currently Tyevk), they're not fooling anyone. Originally a three-piece from Detroit, Tyvek/Tyjvek/Tyevk is expanding as they become champions of distorted, poppy rock ditties; employing simple drum beats, frenetic guitars, and muffled sing-song, Ramones-style vocals to create songs that are both sloppy and undeniably catchy. After releasing a bevy of 7-inches, their self-titled debut LP came out earlier this year on Siltbreeze. They're supporting the album with Midwest and West Coast dates before heading overseas to tour in Europe, where people really go crazy for this shit. MARANDA BISH

TUESDAY 11/3

UPRISING: HORSE FEATHERS

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See My, What a Busy Week.

DIRTY PROJECTORS, LITTLE WINGS

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Dirty Projectors are somewhere out in left field. Or rather, they sound like they're in left field. The band is in a good position, having risen to the top of the indie totem pole with their latest release, Bitte Orca, which will no doubt be a staple on most Best of 2009 lists, and for good reason: Bitte Orca is, in the words of frontman David Longstreth, "rich and complete," like a sweet dish that continues to surprise your palate. Guitars trickle down in broken discord before locking back into harmony, switching time and catching up with stammering drumbeats. Longstreth's voice, fluctuating with Byrne-esque precision, has a strange warmth as he skips along a song, screaming and crooning to unadulterated, catchy compositions. It might take some getting used to, but break into Bitte Orca and you'll have a record that can be chewed on for a while. PG Also see My, What a Busy Week, pg. 19.

KELLY BLAIR BAUMAN, AL JAMES, MIKE COYKENDALL

(LaurelThirst Public House, 2958 NE Glisan) Kelly Blair Bauman is not like all the others. His peers that litter the singer/songwriter landscape are a passive lot with loaded sleeves of soft vulnerability and unwanted emotional purging at the ready. Instead, Bauman—much like Arena Rock labelmate Willy Vlautin (of Richmond Fontaine)—is damaged goods, a songwriter with a heavy soul weighed down by some hard-luck living and enough heartbreak to fill 100 records. One such record is Gomorrah, his sort-of brand-new recording (it was originally slotted for release on Jealous Butcher last year) that is celebrated tonight. The album sparkles with a pristine assembly—the former Northern California resident has a warm and inviting voice that is difficult to deny—even if its deep emotional weight leaves you weak in the knees. Enjoy the pain and beauty that Bauman has to offer, but just don't stray too far from LaurelThirst's numerous taps. Tonight you're going to need every last drop. EAC

ST. FRANKIE LEE, HALLELUJAH THE HILLS, LOVE TRUCKER

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Let's Get it On is the title of St. Frankie Lee's new album, but it's not filled with silky-smooth Marvin Gaye covers. It's actually a folksy, splintery album of drowsy bluegrass and rough-hewn Americana. Chelsea Campbell and Derrick Martin trade off the singing chores, and their vocal strengths come from the enthusiasm of their delivery rather than anything else. The record, which celebrates its release tonight, comes in a charmingly hand-stitched cover, with wayward threads dangling all over the place. The music contained inside is just as loose-ended, with chuffing harmonica, trembling saw, and saloon piano augmenting Campbell and Martin's acoustic guitar and banjo. NL

WEDNESDAY 11/4

UPRISING: HORSE FEATHERS

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See My, What a Busy Week.

WORLD'S GREATEST GHOSTS, SWIM SWAM SWUM, WAMPIRE

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music.

MÚM, HILDUR GUDNADOTTIR, SIN FANG BOUS

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Múm's brand of quiet, weird intensity doesn't make them a novelty act. They're not miniaturists—"Marmalade Fires" is restrained, but it also soars in the way a symphony orchestra soars. "Sing Along," from the Icelandic group's most recent album, Sing Along to Songs You Don't Know, seems to build into something that could become a raucous explosion, but it just keeps ascending, like an ornate marble staircase that you keep climbing, only to find it leads to a dead-end wall, but on that wall is maybe the most moody, gorgeous painting you've ever seen in your whole life. PAUL CONSTANT

LANGHORNE SLIM, DAWES, AUSTIN LUCAS

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Don't look to Langhorne Slim for lyrical ambiguity. Don't expect him to master new technology, or to redefine any musical tropes, or to blaze new trails of creative development. Instead, he makes unpretentious folk rock, with lyrics that get you the first time you hear 'em, and tunes that skip right to the point. The pleasures of his new, Portland-recorded album, Be Set Free—and there are many—might be too obvious for certain listeners, but for everyone else, the shapes and shadows in his songs will feel a lot like home. And with a soulman's command of the stage, Slim has become one of the most winning and raucous live performers out there. NL

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