(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE César E. Chávez) Enigmatic Pittsburgh oddballs Black Moth Super Rainbow's hushed, synth-led experiments with psychedelic electro-pop are engrossing, sinister, and strangely accessible on their most recent effort Cobra Juicy. If you can fight your way through their die-hard fans to see them at the Hawthorne, there's every chance you'll get an unsettling yet blissful contact high. ALEX ROSS

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Daft Punk's much anticipated album Random Access Memories is physically released in the US today, and it's one of the biggest musical disappointments in recent memory, in which the French EDM pioneers opt for a lightly disco-tinged, incredibly repetitive album of soft rock that would send Christopher Cross into snoozes of boredom. While it seems obvious Daft Punk is reaching for the sort of jetstream adult-contempo that likely filled their parents' record collection (Serge Gainsbourg, Air Supply, Alan Parsons Project, possibly Floyd), they approach it like EDM, locking in their programmed, quantized sequences and letting them play for minutes on end with absolutely no development and no drama. For a completely successful, absolutely lovely version of the kind of airbrushed, slick, easy-listening Europop that Daft Punk has utterly bungled, turn your ears instead to Shout Out Louds. The Stockholm quintet's fourth album, Optica, is a gorgeous, wide-eyed, perfectly posed collection of gentle rock with not a single mussed hair or note out of place. Eighties-gazing singles like "Illusions" and "Walking in Your Footsteps" continue Shout Out Louds' string of wistful, highly processed pop songs, done with absolute mastery. NED LANNAMANN

(Bunk Bar, 1028 SE Water) Though some musicians sound undeniably better with the benefit of a production studio and engineers, And And And sound drastically different. This can be a good thing. For example, I sometimes enjoy hearing their songs played at a relatively soft level, and I think the arrangements on Lost glow with the warmth of 1,000 sunsets. The downside is that the recordings capture nothing of the depravity, the loudness, the punk-rock spirit of their live shows. Not until now. In a fortunate development for posterity, And And And are the latest installment of Live from the Banana Stand, that beloved local series of sonic time capsules in the form of live albums. Finally, I can fit the frenzied chaos of And And And right in my pocket. There are several new and unreleased songs here, but the real pleasure is the raw, unfiltered versions of songs that I've grown so used to hearing in their mixed-and-mastered state. REBECCA WILSON

(Dante's, 350 W Burnside) One of the biggest surprises from last year's random show-going was a happenstance set I attended at Angelo's bar on SE Hawthorne. A packed room swayed with raised tallboys-in-fists to some raucous noise in the corner of the joint from a lineup curated by local punks White Fang. Los Angeles garage-punkers Pangea ended up being the perpetrators of said noise, and played a set that provoked me to run across the street back to my house to steal cash from a savings jar to buy every record they brought along to sell, which included the excellent Killer Dreams EP and the Living Dummy LP. The band has since steadily generated some serious buzz, culminating in a rumored recording collaboration with Ryan Adams. This is poppy, smart, sometimes fuzzy, always fun songwriting that has wiggled its way deeply into the folds of my favor, for whatever that's worth. RYAN J. PRADO

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The latest project of über-talented experimental composer D. Reuben Snyder is Caspar Sonnet, who will be celebrating his full-length album release, Identify, for Portland's own Marriage Records. With a powerful, gorgeous tenor he articulates haunting melodies over unusual song structures that draw influence from baroque, lo-fi tribal, dark rhumba, and experimental kabuki. Snyder's dangerously alluring lullabies could easily draw you into a silky web of bygone-era romanticism, where you might forget reality for a moment in favor of a sunset voyage from which you very well may not want to return. CHRISTINA BROUSSARD