THURSDAY 11/5

BROTHERS YOUNG, BOAT

(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) Presented as a limited-edition CD run complete with hand-screened covers, The Sun Says He's God is the first proper offering from the Brothers Young. While the band's boots are muddied by the murky waters of traditional folk—with enough down-home bluegrass to justify your bourbon intake during their live performances—the Brothers' intertwined melodies can occasionally fall into Pinback territory, especially on the dark and sprawling "Waterman." But The Sun Says is not a modern mashup of genres; it's primarily a sleepy-eyed folk record, one that buries even the softest of vocal melodies under a mountain of textured instrumentals. It's the product of a band that proudly rolls a half-dozen members deep—Michael, Dustin and Dillon Young, plus Travis Girton, Trevino Brings Plenty, and Levi Ethan Cecil (he put out the record, so he automatically gets to be in the band). EZRA ACE CARAEFF Also see Music.

WHITE RABBITS, LOCAL NATIVES, GLASS GHOST

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) White Rabbits have eased up on their dense, percussion-heavy sound for their fine second album, It's Frightening, which trades clatter for understated poise. Some of this may have to do with production duties handled by Britt Daniel, and at times It's Frightening evokes some of Spoon's dapper cool. But the New York-by-way-of-Columbia, Missouri sextet can't contain their exuberance for long, and one by one, each of the album's songs floats its way up to the pop stratosphere. The record contains lots of unusual arrangements, with plenty of left hooks and empty spaces, so when the band congeals to a conventional, guitar-oriented sound for penultimate track "The Lady Vanishes," the payoff is tremendous. This is an album worth digging into, and White Rabbits have some clever tricks under their hat. NED LANNAMANN

SOUTHERN CULTURE ON THE SKIDS, THE QUICK AND EASY BOYS

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Southern Culture on the Skids pose for photos in traditional country music fashion: the two men (Rick Miller, Dave Hartman) in cowboy hats with respectable grins, and token lady (Mary Huff) with epic coiffure and a placating smile. To the unknowing eye they could be any God-fearin' musical ensemble, but they are actually a group that, since 1983, have been dedicated to the faux-glorification and mockery of the deep-fried, high-rolling, hairsprayed South. Songs like "Camel Walk" and  "Voodoo Cadillac" combine surf, rockabilly,  and country sounds with an utter ridiculousness that's akin to the B-52s and the Cramps. Although no longer in their prime, there's no question they'll put on a rollicking show—though whether or not they still throw banana pudding at the audience remains to be seen. You should come prepared. MARANDA BISH

SHAIMUS, THE ALPHABETICALLY, WIZARD ATTACK

(Ella Street Social Club, 714 SW 20th Pl) For as much praise—and nervous you-are-ruining-music-forever handwringing—heaped upon videogames like Guitar Hero and Rock Band, little is mentioned about how these interactive games incorporate music from unsigned acts in their libraries. One such baby band hanging to the digital coattails of this new promotional avenue is Shaimus, a melodic rock act from Los Angeles. With a pair of self-released albums under their belt that follow in the hook-heavy tradition of Rooney, Ozma, or Weezer (back before they spiraled into the most embarrassing musical act on the planet), Shaimus is exactly the type of band that would get lost in the shuffle—too indie for the major labels, too commercial for the indies—had it not been for plastic guitars with brightly colored buttons. Feel free to bring your entire Rock Band setup to tonight's show, but don't be surprised if the band passes on jamming with you. They're a band, not a game. EAC

EVANGELICALS, HOLIDAY SHORES, THE WOOLEN MEN

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Portlander Lawton Browning has performed in various incarnations over the past few years—including the Golden Hours and former solo project Trust—but it's the Woolen Men that comes across as a culmination of everything he's explored thus far. Guitars and driving drums lay the background for vocals that combine confident grit and a whiny drawl, and pop-punk elements are present along with down-tempo Built to Spill/Modest Mouse noodlings. As the Woolen Men perform more shows around town, their hand-drawn, screen-printed posters are starting to become iconic on the city's power poles. How this look and sound evolves will be interesting to watch (and listen to). MB

FRIDAY 11/6

NIGHTCLUBBING: WINDSURF, MIRACLES CLUB, JONAS REINHARDT, LINGER & QUIET

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week.

DAVID BAZAN, SAY HI

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See Music.

SWIM SWAM SWUM, POINT JUNCTURE, WA, DEER OR THE DOE

(The Artistery, 4315 SE Division) With plenty of Superchunk-y riffs and cascading melodies, Swim Swam Swum's new record, Circumpolar Westerlies, is one of the most straightforward indie rock records you'll hear this year. Guitarist/songwriter Matt Taylor's voice is positioned somewhere between Perry Farrell and Wayne Coyne, and the local band sounds like everything good you remember from the '90s—songs like "Belly Aches" and "Not in Your Way" are perfect, snotty sing-alongs. Circumpolar Westerlies celebrates its release tonight, and if you've ever described the kind of music you like as "rock," I feel confident telling you this: You will fucking love this record. NL

THE MOTHER HIPS, JASON ISBELL AND THE 400 UNIT, MATTHEW LINDLEY AND TROUBADOUR DELUXE

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Jason Isbell's divorce from Drive-by Truckers was literally that—he went solo from the band and from bassist/wife Shonna Tucker at the same time—and his former pals just have not been the same without him around (last year's Brighter Than Creation's Dark was their worst recording in a decade). But the split has done wonders for Isbell. No longer fighting for mic time with Mike Cooley and Patterson Hood, Isbell (backed by the 400 Unit) has released a pair of full-lengths in the past two years and is hitting a songwriting stride that has resulted in a shocking amount of material in a very short amount of time. Single life seems to suit him well. EAC

SATURDAY 11/7

DINOSAUR JR., LOU BARLOW AND THE MISSINGMEN, VIOLENT SOHO

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

VIDEO GAMES LIVE

(Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) See Music.

KELLI SCHAEFER, TELEGRAPH CANYON, LEONARD MYNX

(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) See Our Town Could be Your Life.

THE RAVEONETTES, CROCODILES, THE UPSIDEDOWN

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) At the start of "Bang!," the first track on the Raveonettes' latest, In and Out of Control, you're dumped directly into the poppiest of pop songs. Bedecked in gentle fuzz and shiny sparkles and lyrics like, "Kids wanna bop out in the street/Fa-fa-fa-fun all summer long!" the song is so unbelievably, over-the-top poppy, it'll give you a sugar rush and a cavity before the second verse. It's also one of the best songs of the year, and the rest of Control is just as good. There's a song called "Boys Who Rape (Should All Be Destroyed)," which is as painfully obvious as its title—and it's a great song nonetheless. There's the gloomy, groovy "Breaking into Cars," which harkens back to the Danish band's minimalist origins before escalating to a squall, and then there's "Last Dance," which is probably as romantic as music ever gets. The Raveonettes do gothic-punky electro-garage pop better than anybody, and with In and Out of Control, they're doing it better than they've ever done. NL

LAURA GIBSON, MUSEE MECANIQUE, RAUELSSON

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Laura Gibson is dead! Dead tired, that is (sorry), from touring the globe in support of her splendid Beasts of Seasons recording. In fact, tonight's gathering at Miss Studios is crammed in between a Japanese and European tour for Gibson, and surely will be her last show here until sometime in the new year. 2010 will find the songwriter splitting time with sound artist Ethan Rose, and eventually releasing a live record from her performance earlier this year at the Eastern Oregon Correctional Institute. Not heard on that recording will be the sound of Gibson violently shivving an inmate for talking during her set. Have fun tonight, but keep your mouth shut. EAC

SUNDAY 11/8

THE CRIBS

(Fabulous Jackpot Records, 203 SW 9th) See My, What a Busy Week.

VIDEO GAMES LIVE

(Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) See Music.

GHOSTLAND OBSERVATORY

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) This one time, a couple of Daft Punk's interns were messing around in their recording studio in Paris, working on some synth pads for the new Tron movie or whatever, when a mangy alley cat snuck in. They called the Parisian equivalent of animal control, and they even tried to get rid of the thing themselves, but nothing was working. After days of this cat interfering with their productions and knocking around in their synthesizers, the guys finally were forced to beat the animal to death with the cheapest, crappiest keyboard they could find. The cat squealed and howled and made an awful racket; the keyboard broke apart, making terrible bleeps and burbles; both poor things eventually died. Some tapes of the incident got out and so inspired Ghostland Observatory that the Texas duo recreate the sound live onstage, with the bonus of goofy outfits and lasers. ERIC GRANDY

BISHOP ALLEN, THROW ME THE STATUE, DARWIN DEEZ

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) I really want to like Bishop Allen, and maybe you actually do like them—their songs are friendly and welcoming, like a friend having you over for dinner. But while I've never had a single unpleasant experience listening to Bishop Allen, there's not much that lingers once the record is over. Their newest is called Grrr..., and it's cute and nice, and that's about it. Seattle band Throw Me the Statue, meanwhile, has a bit more substance—their newest album, Creaturesque, is nearly as good as their excellent debut, Moonbeams, and it's whirring with lo-fi sounds set against a big-screen backdrop, brought to life by songwriter Scott Reitherman's melancholy, addictive melodies. NL

LITTLE DRAGON

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Gothenburg, Sweden's Little Dragon have garnered plaudits from TV on the Radio's David Sitek and influential KCRW program Morning Becomes Eclectic, while having a track ("Twice") on Grey's Anatomy. All of which should make one skeptical of the group's merits. But Little Dragon's Machine Dreams full-length on Peacefrog Records emanates a winsome charm, thanks largely to Yukimi Nagano's cute-secksy (faux?) naïf vocals and the group's Yellow Magic Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (although Light would be more apt). Their instrumentation strikes a pleasing balance between organic and synthetic while in service of melodies that insinuate themselves into your mind with understated insistence. Little Dragon are just quirky and inventive enough to avoid kitsch overload and tasteful blandness, common pitfalls in synth pop. DAVE SEGAL

MONDAY 11/9

MOOMAW, GLASS TEETH, JOEL KRAFT

(Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) See My, What a Busy Week.

TUESDAY 11/10

MISSION OF BURMA, ERASE ERRATA

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

LOCH LOMOND , TU FAWNING

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

HEADLIGHTS, ANNI ROSSI, POMEGRANATES

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) I don't believe a single word that spills from the collective mouths of Headlights. They might say that Wildlife was a "very difficult record" in their bio, but they're a bunch of fucking liars. The record bubbles with an effortless sheen, one where bright little explosive pop numbers take flight, and the entire recording fills me with the same joy/frustration as listening to anything associated with A.C. Newman. How can one human being—or in Newman's case, a Canadian—make so much perfect pop music without even trying? Please enjoy every single massive pop hook and swelling chorus that Headlights have to offer, but don't be surprised if the band performs without breaking a sweat. EAC

WEDNESDAY 11/11

THE MOUNTAIN GOATS, FINAL FANTASY

(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) See Music.

THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS, GUGGENHEIM GROTTO

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) It's rare that I wish I was in Seattle, but this They Might Be Giants show is one of those blue moon situations. John Flansburgh and John Linnell & Co. will be performing 1990's Flood in its entirety in our sister city to the north, while we're left high and dry. I might be jealous, but the two Johns have always put on a great show even if it won't be full of particle men, Rawhide whip sound effects, and an everlovin' birdhouse in your soul. TMBG are hot with the hipster diaper set,\d as evidenced by the recent release of their third educational LP Here Comes Science and their brand-new children's book/DVD Kids Go!, but leave the rugrats at home for this 16-and-over show. Everyone will be acting like sugar-addled four-year-olds anyway—TMBG just bring that out in an audience. COURTNEY FERGUSON Also, see My, What a Busy Week.

THE JET AGE, SYSTEM & STATION, NEW YORK RIFLES

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) The Jet Age's Eric Tischler isn't afraid to take on some heavy themes. Last year's What Did You Do During the War, Daddy? was a comment on current affairs, a weighty concept album in which the protagonist becomes a suicide bomber. The new Jet Age record is called In "Love" and you can be sure the quotation marks are deliberate. Throughout the record, Tischler takes the Jet Age's familiar Who-influenced power trio down a dark road, exploring the crippling, fickle, indefinable nature of love. It's a tribute to Tischler's unblinking fearlessness that none of the songs on In "Love" are love songs—except one, the punky, album-closing "Lead Me Where You Dare," where the singer admits, "I don't know what love is anymore." That's as close to romance as you're gonna get with the Jet Age. NL

PINBACK, JOE JACK TALCUM

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Goblin Cock is not a joke band; it is a serious doom/dronecore metal act. I say this in order to save Rob Crow some time, which he will hopefully devote to the next Pinback LP, due out in 2010. Until then, the band (Pinback, not Goblin Cock) is at the Doug Fir to impress and decompress audiences with their refined brand of sedate indie rock. Expect the expected—methodical riffs, standby drumbeats, and vocals that carefully meld together as Crow and Zach Smith deliver disaster-riddled lyrics with the indifference of a lithium patient. Nonetheless, Pinback's music provides the same sort of therapy one achieves in keeping their hands busy and may be a good way to stave off the impending doom of winter. (If you'd rather invite doom, however, check out Goblin Cock.) RAQUEL NASSER

LOVER!, THE PITY FUCKS, DJ HWY 7

(East End, 203 SE Grand) Once upon a time, a boy named Rich Crook met a boy named Jay Reatard. We're not sure if they fell in love, but they did make very lovely music together, both as the Lost Sounds and the Reatards. Eventually, a new flame, Matador Records, whisked the boy Jay far, far away, never to return. Rich sought solace first with Jack Oblivian as the Knaughty Knights, and then with a new power-pop outfit named Lover! With Lover!, this boy named Rich leaves behind his drum kit and gets to stand right at the front of stage—where he can sing and dance, and play his guitar to his heart's content! Could it be that Rich is finally in love? We think so! The End. KELLY O