THURSDAY 3/25
SERENA MANEESH, THE DEPRECIATION GUILD, HOSANNAS
BLOWFLY, CLARENCE REID, GIRL TROUBLE
(East End, 203 SE Grand) Nearly a decade ago I found myself backstage with Blowfly hours before the legendary pornographic rapper was set to perform. Half expecting the man responsible for a record entitled Analthology to be up to no good, we discovered Clarence Reid peacefully asleep on a sofa. In a cape. And a mask. It was oddly endearing, to witness the man responsible for 30-plus years of filthy funk (sample song titles: "Cum of a Lifetime," "Too Fat to Fuck") tuckered out backstage like someone's retired grandpa dozing off during a Matlock marathon. Well, Blowfly is still at it, and while few things in this world might seem more frightening than spending an evening in a dark room with a sex-rapping 65-year-old in a cape, take advantage of the man's dirty rhymes while you still can. EZRA ACE CARAEFF
CARPET CULTURE: EVOLUTIONARY JASS BAND, MATTRESS , GOLDEN RETRIEVER
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Golden Retriever: The Dog is a genial, eager-to-please breed, excellent with children and possessing a soft, yielding jawgrip so that it can fetch game birds without crushing them. Golden Retriever: The Band couldn't be less cuddly. Matt Carlson's chunky synth drones wend their way across the shards of colored glass created by the processed clarinet of Jonathan Sielaff. They play Holocene's free monthly Carpet Culture night, which takes place entirely in the front room. Golden Retriever will be followed by the noise-lounge of Mattress, which has slowly been creeping toward more conventional drum-and-guitar arrangements without losing its willful weirdness, and then it's the Evolutionary Jass Band, who are one part free-skronk and one part Dixieland-voodoo front-line delirium. NED LANNAMANN
COPY, SKELETRON, ROBOT UPRISE, KALEIDA
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Like Starfucker, but hate all the extra D's of Pyramiddddddddd? Well, my fickle friend, slide that neon headband off your eyes and get your first glimpse of Skeletron. Comprised of Josh Hodges and Shawn Glassford of Starfucker/Pyramiddd, Skeletron harkens back to the olden days of 2007 (our president was white then!), when the band's bedroom dance pop was still located in the, well, bedroom and out of the harsh glare of the limelight. Expect plenty of howling keyboards, soaring melodies, and the deep understanding that everything Hodges touches turns to dancefloor gold. EAC
POWERGLOVE, ONLY ZUUL, EXCRUCIATOR, APSIS
(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) There's nothing that new, or even novel, about a heavy metal band covering videogame scores and Saturday morning cartoon themes in the year 2010. With bands like MegaDriver and Game Over making the rounds, this gimmick has lost its value over time. It's with that caveat that I'd rank Powerglove at the top of the videogame metal class, simply by pushing the joke further than anyone else dares. The Boston band dresses the part—videogame villains complete with inflatable sidekicks—while playing songs from Tetris and Duck Hunt with the virtuosity of DragonForce (or Fred Savage in The Wizard). Their website is a navigable flash RPG, and the band even inspires entire crowds to sing, "Go Go Power Rangers!" It's almost enough to make me get off the Mountain Dew-stained couch in my mom's basement. Almost. DAVE BOW
FRIDAY 3/26
THE CUTE LEPERS, ROXY EPOXY AND THE REBOUND, THE MEAN JEANS
(Lola's Room, 1332 W Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!
SCOUT NIBLETT, HOLY SONS, GHOST TO FALCO
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See Music
ACID MOTHERS TEMPLE, OGOD, SUBARACHNOID SPACE
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Longtime Acid Mothers Temple leader Kawabata Makoto's tangled mass of graying black hair is an apt analogue for his group's music: a dense, many-tendrilled phenomenon in which one can get lost. Over the last 13 years or so of absurdly prolific release schedules and frequent touring, AMT's approach has become somewhat predictable, but despite that, it's not lost much of its luster. These Japanese freaks can still stun you with chaotic noise jams or serenely folky ballads. LA's Over-Gain Optimal Death (OGOD) traffic in that kind of ever-revvin', "we're gonna ride our hogs across America in 48 hours" rock that the MC5 and Steppenwolf blueprinted 40 years ago and Japanese outfits like Mainliner and High Rise accelerated to even crazier levels. DAVE SEGAL Also see My, What a Busy Week!
GAROTAS SUECAS, HORNET LEG, CAFETERIA DANCE FEVER
(East End, 203 SE Grand) São Paolo band Garotas Suecas—whose name, awesomely, means "Swedish Girls"—are being touted as a retrofied Tropicália throwback, but this is more indicative of American audiences' hunger for anything that bears the Tropicália stamp rather than the Suecas' actual sound. In actuality, the Brazilian sextet plays somewhat ordinary '60s garage-soul that would sound perfectly at home over blown-out speakers at a Delta Tau Chi house party. It's more Castaways ("Liar, Liar") than Caetano (Veloso). Still, squirming around in the tiny East End basement to this stuff on a boozy Friday night sounds like a total blast, and you could always use the excuse to brush up on your Portuguese. NL
SATURDAY 3/27
CYMBALS EAT GUITARS, BEAR IN HEAVEN, HIGH PLACES
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!
QUASI, EXPLODE INTO COLORS
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week! and Music
VERSION: DJ E3, MONKEYTEK, JON AD, DJ EARLY, JAGGA CULTURE
(Holocene">, 1001 SE Morrison) Last Friday at the U & I Tavern, an unassuming dive bar on the far north end of Interstate Avenue, a community of West Indies immigrants got together for the final installment of Forward Fridays. For over five years they'd been gathering to enjoy reggae and dancehall music in proper form with a big sound system, emcees, and the rest of the Jamaican conventions. Trace these traditional Caribbean elements forward several decades and you end up with dubstep and UK funky—the kind of modern bass-driven music one hears from the Various crew, every first Saturday at Branx. Tonight, Holocene's new Version dance party bridges the musical timeline with resident DJs from both nights representing the two ends of the sound, surely stopping off around the midway point of England's soulful garage music from the mid-'90s. Expect a common thread in MC Jagga and organ-rattling frequencies from a specially imported sound system. AVA HEGEDUS
NOTHING PEOPLE, NUCULAR AMINALS, CHEAP FLIGHT, ETERNAL TAPESTRY
(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) There's always been an air of mystery surrounding Orland, California's Nothing People (you'd be hard pressed to find any decipherable photos of the members), which makes their glitchy cyber-garage all the more intriguing. The four-piece emerged from their wormhole five years ago and put out a couple of EPs before releasing their S-S Records debut Anonymous in 2008. The band just released its third LP (vinyl only) Soft Crash, a collision of grimy vintage instruments shrouded in a wash of delay and reverb. It's ambient music that's at times chaotic and, if you listen closely, beautiful. If we're living in the digital age, Nothing People are having nothing of it. Unsettling and utterly timeless—these beings are not of this earth. MARK LORE
THE DEVIL MAKES THREE, MAD COW STRING BAND
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) While the Devil Makes Three are not exactly a group of Kentucky bluegrass rabble-rousers, they have taken a good stance in slowing down the speediest of musical genres to California's snail pace. Hailing from Santa Cruz, the last frontier of funky coastal towns between San Francisco and Los Angeles, the three-piece outfit has enacted a simple homage to Americana on 2009's Do Wrong Right, with hints of ragtime soul, bluesy rhythm, and some punk rock affectations. They have traded frenzy for swagger, showy clawhammer for lax finger picking, and gingham shirts for neck tattoos. And if nothing else can be gathered, you will be pleasantly surprised at the way the band sparks that rowdiness in all who will entertain it, a primal urge to get drunk and dance like the devil is on his way. RAQUEL NASSER
PENTAGRAM, RADIO MOSCOW, BURNING LEATHER, NETHER REGIONS
(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) It took Pentagram nearly 15 years to release their debut album. Additionally, the band endured numerous lineup changes, several breakups, a few debilitating drug arrests, multiple short-lived record deals, and prolonged periods of inactivity. But these inopportune occurrences—stumbles that would cripple lesser bands—cannot hold back the godfathers of doom metal. If anything, these roadblocks have added to their mystique, and consequently, the power of their legacy. One gets the distinct sense that Pentagram will never die, though history dictates that the opportunity to witness this metal institution in the flesh could very well be a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. BRIAN COOK
SUNDAY 3/28
YOU WHO: BLITZEN TRAPPER, BLACK PRAIRIE, VURSATYL + MORE
(Kennedy School, 5736 NE 33rd) See My, What a Busy Week!
TWISTA
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!
WHITE MICE, LESBIAN
(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) White Mice hail from Providence, Rhode Island's revered noise-rock scene, and a few minutes of exposure to their latest album, Ganjahovahdose, reveals why they rule so strongly there. White Mice's music displays a sheer brute force and claustrophobic density that dwarfs even those of legendary volume dealers like Killdozer and Birthday Party. Doing this sort of apocalyptic noise-eruption schtick can come off as macho posturing and/or corny horror-flick pantomime. It takes a special breed of sonic misanthrope to achieve this end-of-the-world atmosphere without making listeners mock you off the stage. White Mice are among that special breed. Historic hysterics guaranteed. DS
MONDAY 3/29
WHITE MICE, LESBIAN, DJ NATE C
(Tube, 18 NW 3rd) See Sunday's listing.
TOBACCO, SMALL BLACK, WASHED OUT, THE HOOD INTERNET, PICTUREPLANE
(Holocene">, 1001 SE Morrison) Tobacco is the electronics band of Black Moth Super Rainbow head Tom Fec, who here warps that band's heady, psychedelic pop sound to darker and more beat-heavy ends. The same crackling analog synths, space-making tape delays, and vaporous vocodered vocals are present, but Tobacco tethers and loops them to harder, digitally clipped hiphop beats, making for near-instrumentals that are as lysergically blissful as they are eerily disorienting. The Hood Internet, on the other hand, are a pair of prolific Chicago-based DJ/producers who make mashups of hiphop and indie rock; their selections show fine if overly au courant taste, and their blends are on-beat if not always mind-blowing—don't expect anything like the adventurous curatorial depth and breadth and giddily hyperactive mixing of, say, 2 Many DJs. ERIC GRANDY Also see Feature and My, What a Busy Week!
BEN SOLLEE AND DANIEL MARTIN MOORE, HALEY BONAR
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Daniel Martin Moore was Sub Pop's surprise signing in 2008, a Kentucky songwriter who impressed the venerable label with his unsolicited demo. His second record for the label is a collaboration with a fellow Kentucky musician, cellist Ben Sollee. They've written an album about their home state (and gotten another Bluegrasser to produce it, My Morning Jacket's Jim James, who now seems to be permanently going by the name "Yim Yames"). Dear Companion deals with mountaintop removal, a method of coal mining that is devastating parts of rural Appalachia, including the duo's old Kentucky home. The record, then, is a little hard to attack, seeing as how it was concocted to raise awareness of (and proceeds toward) an important environmental issue, and its best moments are pleasant enough, even if the laidback, two-stepping ditties are more Jack Johnson than Bill Monroe. NL
ODDSAC
(Cinema 21, 616 NW 21st) Experimental electronic pop band Animal Collective and director Danny Perez recently staged a happening, a "kinetic, psychedelic environment" at NYC's Guggenheim Museum called Transverse Temporal Gyrus. There were masks and robes, glowing blobs and fans in face paint, and hours of music with no discernible songs. ODDSAC is Perez and the band's new "visual album" (AKA totally trippy movie, bro!), and it's probably the closest thing you're going to get to that Gyrus this side of the Guggenheim. The film is 54 minutes of Brakhage-esque multiple exposures, abstract expressionism, and quick cuts set to new music by the band—but expect less Merriweather Post Pavilion sing-along and more early AC psyched-punch freakout. EG
OLD GROWTH, TUBERS, STREET EATERS, JOHN SUTHERLAND
(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) Old Growth's most recent release, a split 7-inch with French band 12XU, shows the band revving up their Crazy Horse thunder with ferocious urgency on "Hey Young." Meanwhile, "A Year in the Dirt" features gorgeous violin from Fiona Petra, interwoven with Old Growth's grunting guitars to tremendous effect. It's not a new release, but it's two more excellent songs from one of Portland's finest bands. The local trio plays tonight with Tubers, a St. Augustine, Florida, band whose Shell Out album contains speedy, galloping punk numbers alongside a majestic, Jimmy Page-esque guitar interlude ("P52"). NL
TUESDAY 3/30
THE PAPER CHASE, KISS KISS, AND I WAS LIKE WHAT?
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) The metallic scrape of a knife sharpening. Yelped vocals. A spoken word interlude. These compiled elements of studio time and found sound are just one of the many tricks up the respective sleeves of the Paper Chase, who take a joyful pride in eschewing the predictability of their experimental-rock brethren. The oddest birds in the Kill Rock Stars aviary, the Dallas, Texas, band delivered the dizzying Someday This Could All Be Yours last year, but are only now making their way out West. At their best, the Paper Chase (or "the pAper chAse" if you hate your caps lock key, or are into tUnE-yArDs) will send you stumbling into the Doug Fir's wooden walls in a confused haze, set about by John Congleton's clever wordplay and his bandmates' technical prowess. At their worst, it feels like auto-asphyxiating. Either way, you win. EAC
JOHN MAYER, MICHAEL FRANTI
(Rose Garden, 1 Center Ct) Once upon a time, John Mayer was just your typical twentysomething white-guy blues guitarist cultivating an image of humble, down-to-earth dorkiness while casually banging Jennifer Aniston. Then came 2010, when Mayer was overcome by what seemed like a particularly douchey strain of Tourette's, which drove him to brag about the celebrity babes he'd boned in a manner befitting a young Donald Trump and language befitting a dull pubescent. He also made some lunk-headed proclamations on race involving, God help him, "ironic" N-bombs. Thus did a contender for America's male sweetheart become a disturbing and pitiable freak show, at which you may gawk tonight at the Rose Garden. His psyche is a wonderland. DAVID SCHMADER
WEDNESDAY 3/31
MY FAVORITE THINGS WITH SAM ADAMS: SOFT TAGS, REV. SHINES, DJ HWY 7
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!
TITUS ANDRONICUS, LET'S WRESTLE
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See My, What a Busy Week!
HORNET LEG, AGATHA, ORCA TEAM
(Ducketts Public House, 825 N Killingsworth) The last few months have been pretty rough on Orca Team. First they backed out of their record contract with SoHiTeK Records due to a miscommunication of sorts. Then, in the same week, a majority of their gear was stolen out of their car. So to say they are a little bummed would be quite an understatement. But things definitely aren't all bad for the band. The Portland dream-pop trio is gaining momentum quickly as word of their superior pop sensibilities spreads up and down the West Coast. And with the free shows at Ducketts being as well attended as they are these days, tonight couldn't be more perfect for the Orca Team. MATTEY HUNTER
