Up & Coming 

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THURSDAY 1/28

PORTLAND MUSIC AWARDS: COOL NUTZ, 3 LEG TORSO, BOY EATS DRUM MACHINE, WANDERLUST CIRCUS, SOME OTHER CRAPPY BANDS NO ONE WANTS TO SEE

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) It pains me to see this sham of an event limp into its third year of existence, but if nothing else, the Portland Music Awards prove that some folks will do just about anything for a chance to win a shiny little trophy. The red flags are alarming: The event is organized via a third-party "nonprofit" by Craig Marquardo (I guess that means Music Spectator magazine never sold for his unintentionally hilarious $25,000 asking price); the event's baffling original choice of headliner, '90s one-hit wonder Meredith Brooks, dropped out; and the show's host—the fat Baldwin brother (Daniel)—has no discernable ties to the local music scene. Portland's music community is great because it doesn't rely on disingenuous, blowjob-y events like this for validation. It's not enough to just suggest—or demand—that you avoid this like the fucking plague. If you drop $25 for this swill, be ashamed. Give that money to Haiti instead. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

SUDDEN INFANT, R. JENCKS, DANIEL MENCHE, PETE SWANSON

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The final Yellow Swans album comes out in March on Type Records, but the duo of Pete Swanson and Gabriel Mindel Saloman have already gone their separate ways. Meanwhile, the forthcoming final effort, Going Places, is a mysterious wash of noise and somewhat hostile ambience. Hums, clicks, drones, and whistling pulses cycle over each other like avalanches, slowly drawing and accumulating beauty out of otherwise nerve-racking spirals and tones. Swanson does a solo set tonight in support of the Swiss-born, Berlin-based Sudden Infant, the project of Joke Lanz, whose harrowing noise records are utterly devoid of any sort of comfort, filled with shrieks, fuzz, industrial pounding, and occasional weird baby chatter. This should be a disconcerting evening. NED LANNAMANN

NILE, IMMOLATION, KRISIUN, DREAMING DEAD

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) Death metal has always been about brutality, blasphemy, and speed. Recently, however, bands have taken it a bit too far. Instead of inspiring windmills of hair and fist pumping, they leave you scratching your chin, wondering what time signature they are in or how many notes the guitarist has played in the last 10 seconds. Amid all the technical chaos, many have left behind one very important thing: the hook. Thankfully, South Carolina's Nile have not given up the good fight. Their sixth album, Those Whom the Gods Detest, is brimming with enough hooks to bang all that hair off your head. Also, thanks to Karl Sanders' obsession with Egyptology and other Middle Eastern cultures, traditional instruments and Islamic chants are thrown into their crushing musical assault. So it could be considered world music, right? ARIS WALES

WIZARD BOOTS, CLOUD OF SUNS, ROLLING THROUGH THE UNIVERSE, BERINGIA

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) Wizard Boots possess that Ween-like or Flaming Lips-like quality of mimicking various genres within their own psychedelic formulation—the majority of which comes out sounding almost like David Bowie covering Tenacious D ("Who Snatched the Baby Jesus?"). For good measure, there's some Butthole Surfers-style lunacy buried in there, demonstrated on songs like "Yogurt." In their stronger moments, they sound like what Black Lips might sound like when they grow up. Wizard Boot's slowed-down, Southern-flavored, acoustic-based jams like "Ten Years (3,650 Days)" and "Retarded Love" sound like they're from an unearthed time machine in Atlanta, especially while reciting lyrics like, "Let's go behind this dumpster so we can make out." If you like your music weird (and especially if you have a mega-crush on Mike Patton), this band is a band you'll love. KURT PRUTSMAN

FRIDAY 1/29

THE CRIBS, JEMINA PEARL

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

YOB, WITCH MOUNTAIN, TREES

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Eugene's YOB has been wading through doom-y, molten sludge for about a decade, returning in 2009 after a tumultuous hiatus that saw founding member/guitarist Mike Scheidt dealing with a nasty lawsuit over his other band's name. YOB released The Great Cessation last year, a five-song long-player that clocks in at one hour and moves at a sloth's pace. And not many bands do it better. Scheidt & Co. are still churning out epic riffs and psychedelic interludes that sound as if they've been peeled right out of a black-light poster. It's as intense as it is comforting. It also reaffirms that while YOB has borrowed from the best, many doom practitioners today have stolen from YOB as well. MARK LORE Also see My, What a Busy Week!

WOODY GUTHRIE TRIBUTE: COUNTRY JOE McDONALD

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Decades before Billy Bragg and Wilco recorded Mermaid Avenue, Country Joe McDonald was asked to set music to some of Woody Guthrie's lyrics. You might know McDonald best for his participation at a little concert in upstate New York in 1969 ("Give me an F!"), but he's been channeling Guthrie for years, starting with his 1969 album Thinking of Woody Guthrie. McDonald periodically does a 90-minute tribute show to the great American songwriter, complete with spoken word segments, and tonight he brings the show to Guthrie's one-time hometown (Woody lived in the Lents neighborhood in 1941, during which time he wrote "Roll on Columbia" and "Grand Coulee Dam"). Expect the man who led the Woodstock crowd in chanting "F-U-C-K" to incite an impressive sing-along of "This Land Is Your Land." NL

SOFT METALS, REVERSE DOTTY, PHANTOM KICKS, SOAP COLLECTORS

(East End, 203 SE Grand) Since becoming a mainstay in Portland's underground scene in 2006 with possibly one of the world's only catchy dance singles about reproductive freedom, "Egg Room," the band now known as Reverse Dotty (dropping "and the Candy Cane Shivs" from their name) took some time to hash out a sound rooted in local aesthetics while incorporating an interesting array of electronic and acoustic elements. The result was last year's full-length debut Licorice Whips, a hefty collection of tracks layered with atmospheric synths, syncopated drumbeats, eerie reverberated vocals and punchy bass lines. Each intricate song would make a fitting accompaniment for either arty space porn, a trippy dance party, or both. The group's B-52s-style male/female split, their dedicated quirkiness, and emerging new material promises to keep things interesting. MARANDA BISH

KORPIKLAANI, TÝR, SWASHBUCKLER, WHITE WIZZARD, SABATEUR, CURIEN

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) Týr is from the Faroe Islands, a small group of islands located halfway between Scotland and Iceland. Take note: The island's population is of 87 percent Scandinavian descent, their economy depends on farming and fishing, and apparently they produce metal bands as well. Named after the one-handed Norse god of combat, Týr plays progressive power metal laced with Nordic lore and mythology. If epic Viking battle hymns are your bag then Týr will satisfy. If you are like me and intrigued by the historic culture of the area, Týr's content is culled from authentic Viking music and folklore passed on in oral tradition. Fuck the opera; get cultured at a metal show. AW

SATURDAY 1/30

ALL GIRL SUMMER FUN BAND, IOA, ETERNAL TAPESTRY

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

DJ KRUSH, RYAN ORGAN, E3, DJ KEZ

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) See Music.

THE HOOD INTERNET, DJ BEYONDA, DJ LIFEPARTNER

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) While you obsess over whatever fresh new viral meme destroys your worktime productivity, DJs Steve Reidell and Aaron Brink are scouring the Hype Machine for the hottest jams tucked within the series of tubes that is the internet. This duo makes up the Hood Internet, and their multimedia mash-ups blur the line between DJ heroics and a drunken night spent at home opening YouTube music videos in multiple browser tabs. Their press material boasts that they are "laptop-armed alchemists," but I prefer to think of them as Girl Talk with a broadband connection. They'll play everything you would possibly want to hear, and even some things you are embarrassed to admit you like. Like Ke$ha? Yes, like Ke$ha. EAC

BLUE HORNS, MORNING TELEPORTATION, AAN

(Doug Fir, 830 E. Burnside) Simply put, Blue Horns possess the same boyish abandon of a Youth and Young Manhood-era Kings of Leon, long before Caleb Followill started writing records on painkillers. The second song on their self-titled release, "I Will Eat You Up," blazes a clear path for their sound to follow, and it's the kind of track that can pry you from your bed on a rainy morning in a dark, damp room. The guitars are pushed through some pedal that makes them sound like the kind of brightness that we won't see here until July, and lead singer Brian Parks shouts gleefully around you, his falsetto-ed "oohs" dissolving each of your dreams. Most of their songs (and the fun that they convey) will ring in your head long after they have finished playing, and are best paired with a PBR, a full-body shake, and a smile. RAQUEL NASSER

CHICHARONES, DICTION, RAISE THE BRIDGES, EDDIE VALIANT, SERGE SEVERE, THE NIGHTCRAWLERS

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) Seeing the Chicharones is like seeing Gallagher, except that the Chicharones are funny. Sleep and Josh Martinez (easily two of hiphop's most slept-on talents) blast stages, sweating and foaming at the mouth, performing with an intensity seldom seen in live hiphop. Their energy reaffirms the genre's lasting power to move crowds and inspire listeners. For that reason a Chicharones show is a singularly entertaining experience; just don't forget to bring a raincoat for the watermelon spray. GRAHAM BAREY

THE CAPS, TIGER HOUSE, SILVER AND GLASS, HAND CHECK

(Local Lounge, 3536 NE MLK) Since the recording of their album Heading to the Coast, the Caps have undergone a serious lineup change, but chief songwriter Chris Worth still leads the group with effervescent pop tunes. The Portland band's brief, simple melodies contain just the right blend of breeziness and wistfulness, evoking the Beach Boys if they'd grown up on the misty Oregon coast. Meanwhile, Tiger House make a basement-party blend of danceable pop-rock, with staccato guitars and cheap, buzzy synths. They aren't above the occasional falsetto-sung jam, either—the bottom line of Tiger House is goofy and approachable music that doesn't mind if you dance right up close to it. NL

PUNK BUNNY, BLACK BARBIE, SISTAFIST, THUGGAGE

(Branx, 320 SE 2nd) With influences such as Britney Spears, Lady Gaga, and Paula Abdul, Black Barbie from Beverly Hills, California, would make an excellent house DJ for Perez Hilton's inevitable dance club. Barbie's straightforward electro-club bangers like "This Is Trash" and "I Wanna Have Sex" get as sleazy as Peaches and will be very suitable for the warehouse parties Branx is known to host. One must wonder, though, that with his absurdly over-the-top, celebrity-sized stage persona, shameless online promotion (which has somehow garnered him media interest without having a proper album out), and laptop music, is this young man for real or some kind of elaborate, living performance art that takes on celebrity culture, hype, and modern music of the late '00s?  Intended or not, Black Barbie has at least one feature in common with one of his main influences, David Bowie: he's certainly mind boggling. KP

SUNDAY 1/31

JARED MEES & THE GROWN CHILDREN, NICK JAINA, DIRTY MITTENS , HOSANNAS, TYPHOON, & MORE

(Rontoms, 600 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!

96th BIRTHDAY FREE-FOR-ALL: LANGHORNE SLIM, MT. ST. HELENS VIETNAM BAND, THE MALDIVES, & MORE

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!

PREFUSE 73, THE GASLAMP KILLER, VOICES VOICES, J. ROBY

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music.

FLESHTONE, PRIZM, MBILLY, THE MOON IN LIGHT

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See Music.

THE THIRD SEX, THE HAGGARD, KAIA WILSON, PERMANENT WAVE

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) During their heyday in the early '00s, performances from the Haggard were a sort of rite of passage for lesbians, bicycle fanatics, and just about every Portlander inbetween. Chaotic and louder than sin, a night spent witnessing this mighty duo's trash punk vigor and riot grrl call-to-arms always led to a tinnitus hangover of ringing ears and a sensation akin to being pedaled over by the entire Critical Mass rally. After a very long hiatus, Emily and sts are back, so plan accordingly. This means rain gear for your bicycle ride over, since there is no way in hell you'd drive to a show by the Haggard. EAC

NOMO, BRAINSTORM

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Ann Arbor/Chicago nonet NOMO trace their polyrhythmic drive and raging horn lines back to Afrobeat, yet the band really shine when their updated highlife sound incorporates krautrock's motorik groove and avant-garde penchants for scrap-metal percussion and handmade electronics. The result is both organic and mechanical, equal parts anthropological celebration and industrial reclamation. It takes either a brave or pretentious clan to juggle these diverse musical styles, but NOMO tackle the task with such skill, passion, and unassuming authority that even the most cynical blowhard would find it impossible to resist their pulsating arrangements. These aren't a bunch of music snobs flexing their obtuse repertoires. These are visionaries working together to create an entirely fresh sound out of old motifs and random hardware. BRIAN COOK

MONDAY 2/1

KRONOS QUARTET

(Kaul Auditorium, Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock) See My, What a Busy Week!

TUESDAY 2/2

PIERCED ARROWS

(Music Millennium, 3158 E Burnside) See Music.

WEDNESDAY 2/3

CAMPING PARTY, WHITE HINTERLAND, THE RO SHAM BOS

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!

DIRTY MITTENS, PRINCETON, MONARQUES

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) If your band shares a name with an elite Ivy League school, there's a good chance that your music is going to be literate, witty, and slightly upper crust. LA-based quartet Princeton actually took their name from the street where three of them grew up, but their debut full-length Cocoon of Love indicates a collegiate knowledge of pop's baroque past, with string-laden arrangements, gentle guitars, and influences from Ray Davies to Scott Walker. Their melodies are gracefully agile, dare I say educational, pleasantly reeking of the hallowed halls of higher learning. Now, if only I could get my band University of Phoenix to sound half as sophisticated. Princeton shares the bill with Portland's Dirty Mittens, who are finishing up their new thesis, er, record, and recently acquired a couple new transfer students: trumpeter David Jorgensen from Blind Pilot and saxophonist Reed Wallsmith from Blue Cranes. Meanwhile, splendid new seven-piece band Monarques have quickly become one of the most fun shows in town, with a rollicking, golden-oldies sound that's evocative of the Love Language. NL

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