THE ASCETIC JUNKIES
Doug Fir, 10/15

THURSDAY 10/14

DIE ANTWOORD

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

LOVERS, THIRD SEX

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Read our article on Lovers.

THE FIX: BILAL, REV. SHINES, DJ KEZ, DUNDIGGY

(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) Reado our article on Bilal.

THE ASCETIC JUNKIES

(Music Millennium, 3158 E Burnside) See Friday's listing.

MONOTONIX, TY SEGALL, O BRUXO

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) At Tube, Monotonix perched on the bar while mixing cocktails in their tighty-whiteys and kissing stunned and mortified jocks on the mouth. They graduated to Satyricon, twice turning the room into a rabid tornado of sweat, trash, and bodies before taking to the streets, drums blazing atop the shoulders of wide-eyed fans while singer Ami Shalev climbed a tree, dangled his balls from his short-shorts and stuck the microphone up his butt. They even got people feeling it back in the balcony of a sold-out Roseland. But indeed, the three half-naked, hairy-chested, soaking-wet radical rock gypsies from Tel Aviv are better the closer one dares to tread into the eye of their inclusive storm of major-scale shredding, propulsive beats, and feats of extreme physical danger. Few live shows are such a tangible whirlwind of life-affirming force. No matter your current state of affairs, you'll leave Monotonix feeling born again. (And covered with the sweat of strangers.) ANDREW R TONRY

HOLY FUCK, INDIAN JEWELRY, CLIPPED BEAKS

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) I am a fan of the title of Holy Fuck's latest album, Latin, referring as it does to an ancient tongue when the language of their soundscape is so definitively modern. The quartet of talented Canadians have brought experimental instrumentation to the indie-rock masses, creating music that is explosive, tight knit, and hypnotic in its cohesion and coordination. In a live show that has been heralded by bloggers, festival organizers, and Lou Reed alike, the four create what seems like sheer chaos with their individual instruments. The communal energy that emerges is spellbinding, often leaving the crowd with nothing to do but jump up and down. While their albums are impeccably recorded, they never sound like sterile studio productions, perhaps because they're not; Latin was recorded in a barn in rural Ontario. Yeah, not your average cutting-edge musical innovators. MARANDA BISH

FRIDAY 10/15

SHINE A LIGHT: GUIDANCE COUNSELOR, WAMPIRE, SALLIE FORD AND THE SOUND OUTSIDE

(Portland Art Museum, 1219 SW Park) See My, What a Busy Week!, and Arts.

SUPERCHUNK

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

SUPERCHUNK, TEENAGE FANCLUB, TELEKINESIS

(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) See My, What a Busy Week!, Read our article on Teenage Fanclub.

WAX FINGERS, NO KIND OF RIDER, EMPTY SPACE ORCHESTRA

(The Knife Shop at Kelly's Olympian, 426 SW Washington) The three mad scientists in Portland's Wax Fingers have just emerged from their laboratory with their self-titled debut LP, a record that throws everything but the proverbial kitchen sink into the mix. Not in a pretentious, self-indulgent way, mind you. Wax Fingers' songs move, and they explode at just the right times. Pop hooks lurk underneath the band's squirrelly guitar and synth attack—and, of course, the more you listen, the more noises will start to emerge. "Fasten the Hook" mixes Afro-Cuban rhythms with massive guitar rumble, and "DJ3G" is what the Max Rebo Band should have sounded like. Wax Fingers will likely play these and more at tonight's record-release show, which will presumably be a cross between a punk-rock show and a sci-fi convention. In the best possible way. MARK LORE

RICHMOND FONTAINE, FERNANDO, BINGO RICHEY

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) As part of Satyricon's farewell victory lap, the iconic club is bringing back Richmond Fontaine for one final night of woeful songs about drunks, jockeys, horses, and drunken jockeys on drunker horses. Back when Richmond Fontaine were regulars on the Satyricon stage they were not the tempered vehicle for Willy Vlautin's wondrously depressing lyrics that they are now. Instead that early incarnation of the band was louder and less focused, an accidental roots band that was discovering their talent as they went along. This is best captured on a live-audience recording of their October 1, 1999 date at the club, currently available on Richmond Fontaine's Bandcamp page. You can hear the band come into their own, as the raucous "Savior of Time" bleeds into a loose take on "Harold's Club," and finally into a slowed version of "Winner's Casino" (where a crowd member yells "fuck you" at Vlautin during his introduction). It's proof that it wasn't exclusively punk bands growing up inside Satyricon's blackened walls. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

THE ASCETIC JUNKIES, JARED MEES AND THE GROWN CHILDREN, THE ANGRY ORTS

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) There are plenty of bands where lyrics aren't all that central to the music, but the Ascetic Junkies aren't one of those bands. They even have a page at songmeanings.net—remember that site?—and their repertoire is perfectly Portland in many ways, largely delivered in sweet, earnest conversational lyrics from vocalists Matt Harmon and Kali Giarritta, who spin plaintive appeals to lovers, friends, and the powers that be. Tonight marks the release of their latest collection, This Cage Has No Bottom, 12 numbers with such straightforward titles as "God/Devil/Gov't" and "(Don't) Panic." This Cage has the feeling of a modern life put to song, hymns made for and among good friends doing their best in the here and now. It makes sense that folks would want to know what the Ascetic Junkies are saying, and perhaps tonight they'll even sing along. MB

MURDER CITY DEVILS, COLD LAKE, BATTLE HYMNS

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) The past few years have found the Murder City Devils going from official working band, to breaking up, to reuniting, to existing in limbo, to touring, and finally to whatever their current status is. The one constant has been that MCD—when together—has never stopped making temperamental, fist-pumping, ass-shaking rock and roll. Many fans are left wondering if these recent tours and murmurs of polishing new material are for real, or will the band vanish like a long-haul trucker going back on the road for who knows how long? To the dedicated followers that have yet to shake their "final show" hangover, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that the pissed-off heartbreak and drunken drama of MCD is here. If you wish to join the rest of us as we look to Captain Spencer Moody to navigate the whiskey-soaked swells and sways of this show, by all means, get your dancing shoes and swagger out of the closet. If you want to dissect where the band has been and what is to come, then stay home—because we're going to a rock and roll show. JAY WILLIAMS

SATURDAY 10/16

BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE, THE SEA AND CAKE

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

THE ACORN, LEIF VOLLEBEKK

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) The Acorn have made remarkable music before, but the Canadian band's latest, No Ghost, might be their best yet. Marrying forlorn folk melodies with the twang of Americana (or should that be Canadiana?) and fiery, rusted Crazy Horse guitars, the Acorn has found an assured place for their brave songwriting. In this incarnation, the band that the Acorn most reminds me of is Calexico—possessing a shade of that band's fearless experimentalism, but more importantly sharing their ease with wresting potent songs out of obscure instrumental parts and gnarled sonics. No Ghost is a tangle of thoughtful delights, the kind of record that could push the Acorn into the ears of a much wider audience—the place, no doubt, where they deserve to be. NED LANNAMANN

SUICIDAL TENDENCIES, POISON IDEA, THE CORPSE

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Mike Muir doesn't "do interviews." I tried, I really did. I woulda killed to ask him if he was really a street thug back in the day—what the gangs the Venice 13 and/or the Suicidal Cycos were really like. I'd ask him if he listened to any new-school skate-punk bands... his thoughts on current censorship laws, PepsiCo, Christine O'Donnell, Tea Partiers... I'd ask if he still wanted to kick Dave Mustaine's ass. I'd tell him that seeing ST open for Megadeth and Slayer (Clash of the Titans Tour, Detroit, 1991) pretty much changed my life, sending me into a decade-long obsession with trash metal... and how that was the first time I left a show with someone else's blood on me, after a fight during his set. I woulda eventually asked about the new album, No Mercy Fool!/The Suicidal Family, with re-recorded ST classic "Possessed to Skate" on it. If only Mike did interviews. KELLY O

FILM SCHOOL, THE DEPRECIATION GUILD, OH DARLING

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Settle in for a night of unchallenging, state-of-the-art, radio-friendly rock circa 2010. Los Angeles' Film School makes post-Interpol lifestyle rock with dance and shoegaze overtones. They have a song called "Heart Full of Pentagons," a phrase that I can't make any sense of, unless it is a commentary on a lover's heart being like the headquarters of the US Department of Defense? That seems like a stretch. Meanwhile, the Depreciation Guild makes post-punk overlaid with Nintendo blips and bloops, often devoid of melody and any kind of identifiable emotion. It's '80s fetishizing at its least essential, where equipment matters more than melody, and style is misinterpreted as substance. NL

ENVY, LA DISPUTE, TOUCHÉ AMORÉ, AND SO I WATCH YOU FROM AFAR

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) Screamo is a touchy subject. The term itself was coined in the 1990s to refer to emotionally gripping hardcore bands (Heroin, Swing Kids, Saetia) that steered away from traditionally metal- or youth-crew-leaning song structures, but was later (around 1999) co-opted by MTV2 buzz bands Taking Back Sunday and the Used (and many more) to label their catchy pop songs with melodramatic screamed choruses. This tour bridges the screamo divide. These days, longtime Japanese screamo quintet Envy lean more toward beautifully crafted post-rock, but tourmates Touché Amoré and La Dispute write driving, emotive hardcore jams reminiscent of both Rites of Spring and Thursday. Sometimes you need to step down and meet in the middle. KEVIN DIERS

SUNDAY 10/17

KELLEY STOLTZ, OLD LIGHT, EVAN WAY

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

CRAYON FIELDS, ARCHEOLOGY, KARL BLAU

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Hailing from Melbourne, Australia, Crayon Fields make hushed, whispery pop; obvious comparisons are the Zombies and the Clientele. But unlike those precious touchstones, Crayon Fields also possess some Down Under ruggedness, very cleverly hidden under muted, echoey guitars and fey crooning. The surf guitars and mild drumbeats often contain hints of desert noir and shoegaze; their second full-length, All the Pleasures of the World, sounds like it could be the Clean tackling Grizzy Bear's Veckatimest. Meanwhile, opener Karl Blau continues to be a Northwest treasure. The prolific Anacortes, Washington, musician has a dizzying array of albums and subscription-service releases; 2008's "That's How I Got to Memphis" single and 2009's Zebra album are two recent examples, both exceptionally rewarding releases destined to become classics. NL

MONDAY 10/18

M.I.A., RYE RYE

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See My, What a Busy Week!, and Read our article on M.I.A..

TUESDAY 10/19

GOGOL BORDELLO, FORRO IN THE DARK

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

BELLE AND SEBASTIAN, TYPHOON

(Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) See Read our article on Belle and Sebastian.

THE GASLAMP KILLER, DAEDELUS, 12TH PLANET, TEEBS

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The Gaslamp Killer (AKA William Benjamin Bensussen, or THE MOTHER.FUCKING GASLAMP KILLER as his all-caps online presence would put it) is an oddball and extroverted one-man show. The vehemently mustachioed DJ/producer is known to convulse behind the turntables, handle his drum machine like a punching bag, and shout berating comments at the audience. His spastic compositions slap together weird world-music samples, off-sounding melodies, funk, dubstep, elements of untamed free jazz, and much, much more. While some of his music fits in with the experimental downtempo sound that defines Flying Lotus's Brainfeeder imprint (mostly by way of hiphop-inspired beats), Bensussen strays further than any other artist associated with the trusted Los Angeles record label. Come prepared for antics. AVA HEGEDUS Also see My, What a Busy Week!

THE HUNDRED IN THE HANDS, SOFT METALS

(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) New York City boy-girl duo the Hundred in the Hands (hereafter referred to as THITH) is yet another stylish, attractive couple making hip, tasteful music with just slight jags of artiness. It's mostly '60s mod pop gussied up in Italo disco and house music trappings; it's disaffected, sexy, and almost completely anonymous. You've heard music like this many times before, and though it sounds fine while it's on, it doesn't leave much of a lasting impression. THITH obviously have a knack for summoning brittle, not-obnoxiously-dancey, new wave cool, and they obviously know how to look fantastic doing it—but a song like "Dead Ending" sounds stifled by THITH's restraint instead of soaring the way it wants to. You can feel it tugging at you like a tethered balloon. NL

RECOIL, ARCHITECT

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) After a long stint as the keyboardist for, and probably most functional member of, Depeche Mode (and working as an opening act for Mick Jones and Joe Strummer's pre-Clash band), Alan Wilder became Recoil—a more experimental, darker outreach of his songwriting, song-splitting, and song-rearranging abilities. In that time, he's collaborated with Louisiana bluesmen, members of Eurythmics and Portishead, and Moby to make dark, dubby compositions that people like to dance to. Oddly, for this show, Wilder is playing the sit-down Aladdin Theater—consider it a good opportunity to eat that pot brownie you've been saving and sit back, letting waves of electro-blues wash over you like wine. BRENDAN KILEY

WEDNESDAY 10/20

PHOSPHORESCENT, QUIET LIFE

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

STARFUCKER, OCTOPUS PROJECT, STRENGTH, SUPER XX MAN

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) In the past we have relentlessly poked fun at Starfucker (or if you believe their latest vowel-free moniker, STRFKR) for their constant name changes, but one thing we will never joke about is their music. Building on a bedroom pop sound that graduated from Portland's house party scene to a (soon-to-be) global sensation, the band has done everything right. Recently inked with Polyvinyl, their latest 7-inch, "Julius," is a treat of pulsating beats and vocals buried deep beneath a glistening wall of keyboard hooks. It's a more mature dance-pop direction for the band, one that hints of great things for their forthcoming LP out in 2011. And STRFKR (or whatever): We kid because we love. EAC

MOTION CITY SOUNDTRACK, SAY ANYTHING, SAVES THE DAY, VALENCIA

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Say Anything's 2004 full-length ...Is a Real Boy is a record I will defend forever (probably—who knows what the future holds?). It's a concept album of sorts, based on a character who is a close approximation of the band's founder and lead singer, Max Bemis, who literally went crazy while making the album. While severe anxiety and bipolar disorder caused a rough patch in his personal life (mental institutions, medication, etc.), it also made for an unapologetic, pissed-off, passionate, and raucous record that is on par with Weezer's Pinkerton when it comes to being able to perfectly capture unwieldy adolescent emotions. Unfortunately, everything the band has released since then has been uninteresting and lame. But we'll always have ...Is a Real Boy. MEGAN SELING