p>TY SEGALL, PURE COUNTRY GOLD, THE MEAN JEANS (East End, 203 SE Grand) In a San Francisco garage rock scene currently bursting with a renaissance of Nuggets-indebted creativity, the freshest take on the old noise is coming from the baby of the family, Ty Segall. Segall's songs—yowling and filthy, with equal parts acid and Pixy Stix flowing through their veins—separate themselves from fellow lo-fi, '60s-nostalgic peers with a youthfulness and immediacy born from years of involvement in the DIY punk community of his native Southern California. "When I was young," Segall hearkens back to the good old days of the early 2000s, "the best thing in the world was [Los Angeles all-ages club] the Smell. If you could get a band together and play the Smell, then you'd made it."

DAMIEN JURADO, KAY KAY AND HIS WEATHERED UNDERGROUND, TOMO NAKAYAMA (Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) I first saw Damien Jurado when he opened for Pedro the Lion at a vaguely Christian-themed venue located in a suburban strip mall in Southern California. Compared to the gloom and religious guilt that lingered around David Bazan, Jurado was endearingly sweet, masking his early-day shyness by joking between songs and performing the goofy "Trampoline," his first seven-inch release on Sub Pop (back then the label had lost some of its luster and was stuck in a post-grunge, pre-Shins middle ground). It's been over a dozen years since that show, yet Jurado continues to make some of the best music of his career. Saint Bartlett is his finest effort since 2000's Ghost of David, a texturally precise and gorgeously assembled recording bolstered in the studio by members of openers Kay Kay and His Weathered Underground. But remember, no matter how politely you request he play "Trampoline," it's not going to happen. EAC

SKELATOR, EXCRUCIATOR, EXTRACTOR, SPELLCASTER (Plan B, 1305 SE 8th) A quote from the beginning of Skelator's Time of the Sword Rulers sums up Seattle band's philosophy: "No knight who is false can win in combat with one who is true." Their brand of heavy metal is unaltered by time and no different from the genre's progenitors like Manowar, Iron Maiden, or Mercyful Fate. The band's sword-brandishing frontman Jason Conde-Houston belts his vocals like a Shakespearian actor, occasionally breaking through his storytelling with an ear-piercing wail. Axe wielders Robbie "the" Houston and Rob Steinway chug through triumphant riffs while the rhythm section of Zach Palmer and Patrick Seick thunderously gallops along with them. Judging BY the trifecta of lyrics, music, and stage show, Skelator are heavy metal knights of the highest order—sworn to protect the genre, and maintain its true form. ARIS WALES

The Evolution Control Committee after the jump!

As always, you can find our complete live show listings here.

SOLOVOX, THE BRAN FLAKES, THE EVOLUTION CONTROL COMMITTEE (Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Mark Gunderson is often compared to Negativland. Both they and Gunderson's Evolution Control Committee were enormously influential and fearless in the pre-digital world of sampling and mash-ups, and both have stayed committed to weakening copyright law for over 20 years. Though Negativland created the biggest noise in the late '80s, acts like Girl Talk wouldn't exist without Gunderson's early-'90s experiments (notably the infamous Public Enemy/Herb Albert mash-up Whipped Cream Mixes). More importantly, the ECC is still releasing great (and freely distributed) music. If their latest, Weapons of Ass Destruction, is any indication, tonight's show should be all kinds of illegal and very danceable. DAVE BOW