THURSDAY 2/12
VI FOOT SLOTH, TRAUMA LE TRON, SECRET PUPPETS
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) 2003 was a tragedy for the Portland music community; we lost so many bright, wonderful, loved people. And yet, people like the ones in VI Foot Sloth and Trauma Le Tron--folks most directly affected by some of the losses--have been huge inspirations, not only for the Portland music landscape but for anyone with hope embedded in the fabric of their souls. After two of their band members and a friend passed on last year, emotive slowcore band VI Foot Sloth and viola-laden discopunks Trauma Le Tron have found strength to keep going. It's all they can do, but I still admire them. Show them your love, and wish Larry Yes a fond farewell before his move to New Mexico. RIP Orion, Cherry, and Angela. JULIANNE SHEPHERD
BASTINADO, JR. PRIVATE DETECTIVE, SYSTEM AND STATION, ZEN POLAND
(Ash, 225 SW Ash) When heavyweight champion Lennox Lewis retired last week, not a single career-retrospective article incorporated the underutilized word "bastinado," which means "to subject to repeated blows." But while the term has yet to take hold in the boxing community, it lands like a haymaker in local indierock circles. Despite its pugnacious name, the Portland trio Bastinado chooses not to bludgeon listeners with endless time-signature shifts. Its complicated compositions lure listeners slowly with their low-frequency tones and subtle melodies, winning by decision rather than relying on knockout punches. ANDREW MILLER
DAVID MOSEY, DJ COLIN SIC
(Kelly's, 426 SW Washington) Usually the pleasure derived from watching a young man play songs on an acoustic guitar is similar to the sensation of a Q-tip being inserted into one's penis during a routine STD exam. But I can say, without hesitation, listening to David Mosey is far superior to all uncomfortable medical tests. Mosey's rich baritone and skilled songwriting brings to mind a young Leonard Cohen playing compositions by Frank Black. Tonight he will be performing his well-crafted acoustic balladry at the neon nightmare that is Kelly's Olympian. Your eyes may burn, but your heart will melt. KIP BERMAN
A STATIC LULLABY, BELOVED, CHRISTIANSEN, ANATOMY OF A GHOST
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) I'm reading Andy Greenwald's book on the history of emo, Nothing Feels Good, and bands like A Static Lullaby fascinate me. On the EMOtion-lotion timeline, this is, what? Fourth? Fifth-generation emo? Were these babies' parents' parents' parents even alive when Rites of Spring was around? I can't fault them for being latecomers--young kids can and will do lamer things. But when you have a band that makes Thursday seem old school, it's hard to rally behind 'em. Christiansen I kinda like--which is painful to admit. The guilt! Time for another Crying Game shower! ADAM GNADE
A MOVING SOUND
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Through live dance and musical improvisation, the lauded Taiwanese performance company A Moving Sound stage their theatre-based performance art to multinational instruments like the Chinese erhu, African drums, French horn, and vocals in English and Chinese. JS
DOOM TOWN
(Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) See MWBW pg 13
THE BUTTFRENCHERS, THE ALTER BOYS, MUDDY RIVER NIGHTMARE BAND, THE NEINS
(Conan's, 3862 SE Hawthorne) Here's a night of punkety-rock that'll snap your spine. The Buttfrenchers keep reminding me of the Ramones, without necessarily sounding like them. They have that same combination of happy-go-lucky mayhem and ruthless efficiency--good solid set of rock, not much talk. The Altarboys seem to be leering and sneering at you, but deep down, it's a love thang. All the hip chicks dance to The Neins, and that makes them very, very happy. And the Muddy River Nightmare Band are the "Janet Jackson's other tit" of rock: bronzed, surgically enhanced, yet sadly overlooked. ROLAND COUTURE
FRIDAY 2/13 For Valentine's weekend activities, see also MWBW pg 13
THE WALKMEN, WEIRD WAR, ALASKA!
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) The Walkmen sound like the Strokes, strut like the Strokes, swagger like the Strokes but nevertheless come off way less rip-offy and fake. Their new rec, Bows and Arrows, beats Julian and his boys by caring more, acting unpredictably, and spreading buttery cinematic seriousness into every nook and cranny of our hot, collective English muffin. Weird War is Mae and Ian from The Makeup and Neil from Royal Trux. If you say "super-group" I'm not hanging out with you anymore. AG
VAGINA MONOLOGUES AFTERPARTY: JOHN BELTRAN, THUNDERBALL, MR. MUMU
(Fez, 316 SW 11th) It's hard to figure out how to party after The Vagina Monologues. Like the monologues themselves, the choices are numerous: pie and punch, polka, power-metal, or dance party. This shindig at the lovely Fez is a safe enough bet for VM attendees and modern beat lovers alike. Thunderball, who release records on the Thievery Corporation-owned label 18th Street Lounge, will select sophisticated dance cuts not unlike their album: cinematic spy chases with plenty of '70s-blaxploitation-string funk, jazzy horns, and global samples. Then, just in time to save us from winter, comes Miami's John Beltran. He's Mr. Summer, and not in an oiled-up swimsuit calendar way. His recordings on Bay Area label Ubiquity and live sets are like little Brazilian carnivals with sexy dancers, lots of percussion, and a Batucada marching band in tow. AARON MILES
EVERYDAY VICTORY, THE HIGH & THE MIGHTY, QUARRY TO THE WAR, COUGAR
(Tonic, 3100 NE Sandy) Everyday Victory has a polished radio sound, but that doesn't mean you should hate their guts. Their vocal-driven pop rock evolves into some pretty rad guitar flourishes, and while the music has that faux heartfelt quality like Shiner, I'm kind of a sucker for that stuff. I think they might be fun. If not, there's always Quarry to the War. KATIE SHIMER
BOYS NIGHT OUT, SENSES FAIL, MONEEN, A BEAUTIFUL MISTAKE
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) For years, Boys Night Out could have been the default marquee billing for any hardcore show. These days, though, tattooed bruisers have feelings too, and they're sharing them with an increasingly eclectic audience. While the shows are fan-friendly, with fewer circle pits and Braveheart-style stampedes from the back of the venue, the groups still puff out their chests when it comes to album and song titles: "Start AngryÉ And Mad," "Broken Bones and Bloody Kisses," "Bloody Romance" and "Stabbing Backward." But all this gore leaks from figurative broken hearts--these aren't the actual injuries that The Freeze and Sick of it All once used as lyrical fodder. If anyone remains too intimidated by the once-fearsome hardcore-show stigma to attend this performance, know this: BNO's guitarist played an elf in Santa Clause. AM
ASH STREET'S 10TH ANNIVERSARY: DEAD MOON, NAPALM BEACH, SHINY THINGS
(Ash, 225 SW Ash) Ten years of rock music, sloppy-drunk bike messengers, waiting in line for the bathroom, and eating chicken fingers to rouse oneself from a stupor. And Dead Moon. Watch two legends grow old together, gracefully. Snicker. KS
ANNA OXYGEN, DJ BRIAN FOOTE, DJ NOBABYMOM
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison, 9 pm sharp) Quoting a band's website is real lazy, but sometimes it's warranted. Seattle disco spazz Anna Oxygen has this to say in her mysteriously blank tour section: "Come check out these rad shows ... complete with ass dance tutorials, secret songs, and new technologies from different body parts + the oxygen aerobics dance a thon... your cells will all be hi-fiving each other.""Yes! "Ass dance tutorials"! Go to this show. Now. "Ass dance tutorials"! AG
WAYLON JENNINGS TRIBUTE NIGHT:
(Mt. Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Everyone's all crazy for Johnny Cash and his badass roots, but what about Waylon Jennings? The man epitomized independent country in the '70s, refusing to sell out to the mainstream Nashville twang-pop that was sweeping the nation. Sure, the best work his gravelly voice ever did was written by other people (namely, Kris Kristofferson) but the man was a warrior, playing his gritty brand of tough guy honky tonk till the day he died. Johnny may have killed a man just to watch him die, but Waylon didn't take shit from nobody, and didn't have to kill anyone. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS
SOMEHOW HOLLOW
(Solid State, 624 E Burnside) After the group Grade dissolved, the former members who committed themselves to a side project expressed their loyalty the hardcore-dude way, sharing plenty of bro hugs and scoring matching tattoos. The guys got inked with gold crowns and the phrase "Heir to the throne," which they hoped would be the new name of their resurgent outfit. A British dance group already owned the moniker--a disappointing development that might have made the body-art gesture feel somehow hollow, which in turn perhaps reinforced the band's existing identity. Somehow Hollow's sound epitomizes why pop punk isn't called punk pop; driven by guitar and vocal harmonies, its tunes are more fluffy than furious. However, Somehow Hollow's output does seem heavy when compared to Grade's former drummer's gig behind the kit for Avril Lavigne. AM
SATURDAY 2/14
VALENTINE'S DAY HOOK-UP PARTY FEATURING THE PLAYHOUSE
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) I know I'm not the first person to say this (respect to DJ Wicked), but why isn't 95.5 FM better? It is not owned by ClearChannel, and yet I swear I heard "Change Clothes" twice in ONE HALF HOUR the other day. Even independently-owned, it still doesn't have the diversity of stations in New York or Chicago. DJ Juggernaut has definitely upped the ante with his shows in the past few months, mixing old school jams you forgot you wanted to hear with new ones you're still feeling--and still, it's like the only other stuff they ever play is Ying Yang Twins, on repeat. KBOO, KPSU and KPRA are excellent alternatives, but, for being our only round-the-clock hiphop/R&B station, JAMMIN' should really try a little harder. Anyway, they're totally going to hook you up for Valentine's Day. JS
NEW YORK RIFLES, VOLUMES, NIGHTMARES
(Kelly's, 426 SW Washington) See Music pg 15
VALENTINE'S SQUARE DANCE FOR IWW
(Liberty Hall, 311 N Ivy) Nothing says love like a living wage! And what says living wage better than squaredancing for the IWW? WellÉ I couldn't pass the SATs on that analogy, but it does sound like a good time. JS
THE NOTWIST, THEMSELVES
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) I highly recommend hitting this show for its openers. Themselves are part of the underground hiphop crew Anticon, and the group pairs vocalist Doseone with producer Jel for some truly fucked-up shit (their No Music of Aff's is psychedelic hiphop at some of its most interesting). JM
AIN'T NO FUN IF THE HOMIES CAN'T HAVE NONE: SICK MEDIKS, EVIL HANDS, SIDEWAYZ SPEECH, KABLEROC W/MYG
(Gallery C07, 2000 SE 7th) Check out the new Gallery C07, a co-op dedicated to up-and-coming artists/musicians/et cetera. Tonight's a steal, especially for those disinclined to wrap themselves with the crimson foil of the holiday: great local hiphop for three bucks, plus canvases by local graf artists. Who's this St. Valentine fool, anyhoo? JS
BIKE 'N' BOOTY DANCE PARTY
(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) See MWBW pg 13
ALL-GIRL SUMMER FUN BAND, BISHOP ALLEN, THE BADGER KING
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) See MWBW pg 13
SUNDAY 2/15
BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS: MC JOHNNY BIGSHOT, DJS ROB UPTIGHT, S-DUB
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison, 11 am) Finally, a late-morning wake-up-call for drunks and late-night obsessives, where you can munch cereal and Pop Tarts, watch cartoons, and work it all off to the extra hot discofunky sounds of DJs Rob Uptight and S-Dub. Not to dis on your family, but it's probably way better than your childhood. And, as a certain author once said, "it's never too late to have a happy one." JS
UNITED STATES OF ELECTRONICA, SILVER SURFER, CONCUBOT, GLASSINE
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) Imagine a world where Brooklyn is just another Borough of Manhattan, a city not particularly hip or influential. A world where irony is still alive, Interpol is the name of the world's largest international police organization and mesh caps belong on truckers, and truckers only. In said world, United State of Electronica reign supreme. Looking like a roaring house party on stage, USE are the kind of infectious dance/rock band that can pry apart your cynically crossed arms and make you hit the dance floor, like it or not. Vocoder galore, huge hooks, and sounding like Fischerspooner, but of course with real songs. It might be easy to write them off as a West Coast hipster dance band, but unlike most anything branded with the dreaded title of Electroclash, USE light up the night with a sense of genuine sincerity and charm. In the end you'll find the hardest part of watching the smiling USE perform live is keeping down the desire to scale the stage and join the band mid-song. EAC
MONDAY 2/16
PRESIDENT'S DAY W/TRIVIA, GAMES, PRIZES!, KILL ME TOMORROW, THEE EXILE REVENGER
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) Kill Me Tomorrow are escapees from the planet Art Explosion, beaming in on a strobe light to project their alien visions on the world of no wave. The San Diego trio--bassist K8 Wince, her husband, drummer/guitarist/knob-twiddler Zack Wentz, and guitarist Dan Wise--have an attention to futuristic detail that permeates everything they create. JM See MWBW pg 13
GHOST TO FALCO, SEX WITH GIRLS IS RAD, ASSASSINS, TUNNELS
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) This is, essentially, another Alarmist show, but divided. Ghost to Falco features Alarmist guitarist Eric Crespo on emotive guitars; Alarmist yeller James Squeaky and Alex Merrill make twee love songs for the sexually gawkish; Tunnels is Alarmist drummer Nick doing his own solo noise thing. Oh Eva, where art thou? In Assassins with members of Djins Teeth (fangs), perhaps? IS ALARMIST THE NEW ILLUMINATI? JS
TUESDAY 2/17
CAMPER VAN BEETHOVEN, CRACKER
(Crystal, 1334 W Burnside) Over the years, the band, which only recently re-formed for tours, released some serious skate punk/surreal folk. The absurdly psychedelic imagery and the flippant tone in their lyrics made songs like "The Day That Lassie Went to the Moon" and "Where the Hell Is Bill" so brilliant in a beer-drinking kinda way. Sadly, CVB disbanded in 1990 and frontman David Lowery went on to Cracker, taking with him his smart-aleck ways--but not his old band's penchant for experimentation--for a new country-tinged pop endeavor. I saw CVB in Austin last year, and, they weren't half as good as back in the good old daysÉ but then again, what really is, right? I JENNIFER MAERZ
Blue collar scout, transpacific,
upsidedown
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) Formerly known as the Transatlantic Ice Floe, post-rockers Transpacific do a good job of keeping the images cold as a berg while the sounds stay warm and cozy. Lilting at times like Icelandic luminaries Sigur Ros, theses Seattlites' former fascination with eastern waters is no surprise. It's not hard to imagine an igloo on that floe, sailing out way Norther and Wester than Portland or Seattle--but the pad in this igloo has electric sheets and a morphine drip. Sonic and psychedelic, Transpacific can coddle with feedback and carress with wah, never jarring the listener further than the more emotive moments of early Unwound. NATHAN CARSON
WEDNESDAY 2/18
KANYE WEST, DJ JUGGERNAUT, DJ RECKLESS, DJ MATROK, DJ ZIGZAG
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) See Music pg 15, MWBW pg 13
ORANGE, LOW FLYING OWLS, TRUCKLESS, GIFFORD PINCHOT
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) Something about listening to Low Flying Owls' sophomore album, ElixirVitae (Stinky Records), makes me want to get stoned and romp around in my panties with the lights dim. And I don't even smoke pot. So long as the band's live show is as seductive as their new record, it could conceivably foster an incredibly sexy audience participation night. The quartet blends groove-driven psychedelia with old-fashioned garage rawk in a manner akin to the Warlocks, or a slow-mo, cloak-drenched version of the Kills. Yet somehow, Low Flying Owls seem like they're more serious about their sultry sound than their forerunners. Call me naive, but I think it's because they hail from Sacramento, where there's little to do other than to practice. And get stoned. LAUREN VIERA
THE MONOLITH, NO-FI SOUL REBELLION
(Twilight, 1620 SE Powell) Imagine, if you will: Dude writes and records the songs, playing all the instruments, then dumps it all into an MP3 player mounted in a hollowed-out guitar. His wife straps it on, presses play, poses, plays air guitar and generally rocks out with said contraption. Meanwhile, dude--an outgoing skinny-ass whiteboy with enough energy to whip any bunch of detached hipsters or lobotomy recipients into a frenzy of ass-shaking--sings the songs karaoke-style. Behold the No-Fi Soul Rebellion. Playing with the Monolith, a tight, new-wavey outfit from San Francisco with great pop songs. RC
sound sunday pleasure, toads at frog creek, MOMS WHO CHOP, JEF BROWN/DAPHNA KOHN, KNOTTED TONGUE
(Meow Meow 320 SE 2nd) Whimsy and community are both promised: this benefit for 100% Portland, which organizes and registers people to vote, is sprinkled with the cabaret and the carefree, members of Smegma and Jackie-O Motherfucker, Glamorous Pat, glamorous Kohn. JS
