(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Read our article on the City Nightclub reunion.

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Read about Joyce Manor in All-Ages Action!

(Alberta Street Pub, 1036 NE Alberta) The literate, forlorn folk of Portland-based songwriter Jeffrey Martin is given room to shine on his wonderful new album, Dogs in the Daylight. Subdued arrangements of fiddle, piano, and occasional drums back up Martin's honey-smoke voice and guitar—an acoustic that has a crack down the face; it was his first guitar and apparently it's the only one he plays. The record is overstuffed with 15 songs, making it a pretty big bite to tear off all at once. But with almost no exception, every song on Dogs in the Daylight is careful and clear, with a tune that creeps beneath your skin and a lyric that makes it shiver. It's tough to pinpoint exactly what it is that sets certain singer/songwriters apart from other singer/songwriters, other than the thoroughness with which their songs turn your guts inside out. And by that measure, Martin is way ahead of the pack. NED LANNAMANN

(Alhambra Theatre, 4811 SE Hawthorne) What's in the water in Philadelphia these days? Besides Rocky's trunk sweat and cheesesteak drippings, I mean. Something over there is helping to grow excellent psychedelic rock bands like the War on Drugs, Nothing, Purling Hiss, A Sunny Day in Glasgow, Spacin', and so on. And now here comes Creepoid, a quartet of sullen-looking youngsters whose self-titled debut album merges the reverberant shoegaze of My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive with a crunchier alt-rock swirl that sounds like the Warlocks casting a spell on Silversun Pickups. Glaze it all with the syrupy incantations of guitarist Sean Miller and bassist Anna Troxell, and you've got a pretty heady brew for folks who love to get lost in six-stringed fuzz. BEN SALMON

(Branx, 320 SE 2nd) Rvivr make blissful pop-punk anthems that give the illusion of intricate spontaneity. While each song has certainly been crafted with care, the Olympia group makes them sound uninhibited, like they just came up with these arrangements on the spot. Their last album, 2013's The Beauty Between, is a perfect example. It's a work so tight and interwoven that it borders on pop-punk concept album, but it sounds raw enough to make you believe it was recorded at a basement show. Rvivr's general celebratory tone lends a perfectly deceptive background to lyrics that often deal with getting through the dark times in life, or that advocate for social change. Fresh off a tour with political punk bands Propagandhi and War on Women, Rvivr brings their road-seasoned tunes to Branx with locals Lavender Mirror getting the party started. JOSHUA JAMES AMBERSON

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) As someone who's had this week's Slint reunion circled on my calendar for quite some time, I would never take issue with a well-deserved victory-lap reunion tour. And it's actually some of these "new lease on life" reunions that have come to fruition over the last decade that get me most excited. While Dinosaur Jr. and Wire both re-emerged to deserved critical acclaim in recent years, it might be Mission of Burma that have had the most stunning resurgence. I wasn't born when the Boston post-punk quartet released Vs. before calling it quits back in 1983, and I was in college when I first came across the band by way of their 2004 comeback album, ONoffON. That staggering gap would mean little without something new to show for it, and the off-kilter aggression transmitted by Mission of Burma since their return has taken them to new heights. CHIPP TERWILLIGER

(Bunk Bar, 1028 SE Water) Stuck in a Dream, the debut album from Portland band Bike Thief, is so full of strings and choirs and swirling hush/roar arrangements, you'll think you've been transported all the way back to the late '00s. That was chamber folk's heyday, of course, but it wouldn't be fair to suggest that Bike Thief are aping the past. Rather, the 10 ambitious tracks on Stuck in a Dream aim for high-seas drama of the most grandiose type, and if that requires oboes and French horns and a ghostly choir that sounds plucked straight from Procol Harum's "In Held 'Twas in I," then so be it. It's tough not to admire the group's sense of scope, and there are more than a few moments of remarkable, terrifying beauty, particularly in the 10-minute title track that closes the album. NL