THURSDAY 5/6

LOSTPROPHETS, HEAD AUTOMATICA, KILL RADIO
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) For a group often saddled with the damning phrase "recommended if you like Hoobastank," lostprophets isn't all that unlistenable. On its omnipresent single "Last Train Home," the group exudes arena-anthem energy on lovelorn lyrics, tinkering oh-so-slightly with radio-ready alt-rock's formula by inserting some skittering drums here and an unorthodox rhythm arrangement there. It's not "Train in Vain," or even "Last Train to Clarksville," but it sure beats the hell out of "The Reason." ANDREW MILLER

THE KINGDOM, WET CONFETTI, THE SNUGGLE UPS
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) Oh, the buzzy, nonchalant pop cool of The Kingdom, how I love thy ways. You manage to be cold and keyboardy, with a detached electronica influence that sort of hurts my feelings, but then you keep me hanging on with the jerky, passionate delivery of your catchy, catchy tunes. I think you may have actually produced a sound that is easier to dance to in high heels! MARJORIE SKINNER

THE CLOROX GIRLS, THE MINDS, THE OBSERVERS
(I.C. Mummy, 335 NE San Raphael) It's fun punk night for Fred the Barber's big birthday bash. The Clorox Girls play fast, peppy punk that makes you vibrate like an epileptic and dance badly on purpose. Charmingly, you can comprehend their lyrics and their guitar playing is badass. The Minds are showy bastards who are fun as hell to watch. KATIE SHIMER

THE CONSTANTINES, MY REGRETS, THE VOLUMES
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) When you think about it, Shine A Light was a pretty kickass title for the second record by the Constantines: an imageless, working class post-punk band from the wrong side of Canada (you'd really have to be lost aboot the music coming out of the Great White North to confuse them with, say, Hot Hot Heat). But they never stepped into the spotlight towards which their edgy, forward-thinking songs seemed to urge them. As with every band that's ever inspired them (from Fugazi to Springsteen to any band ever on SST) they'd much rather you found them. And so you have: nearly a year since its release and on a buzzed-about tour, the songs from Shine A Light are now illuminated by the idea that despite this culture's current fascination with pretty hurt and fashionable detachment, the Constantines may just emerge as indie rock royalty. Let them drink Pabst. TREVOR KELLEY

SOUTHERN CULTURE ON THE SKIDS, THE PAYBACKS
(Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) From the minute I heard the roar of The Paybacks' Wendy Case shatter the Sympathy for the Record Industry's seminal comp Sympathetic Sounds of Detroit, I fell in love with her. While her band bangs out the punchy kind of rock 'n' roll that gives a night out at the local dive bar its proper lovin', leavin', and howlin' soundtrack, Case fronts a jukebox's worth of Cheap Trick-in-the-garage catchiness with a voice rough enough to sandpaper broken bottles into polished gems. Her Marlboro-cured style delivers both fightin' words and tender apologies with the strength of a dozen singers, giving this dynamic band an extra knockout punch. JENNIFER MAERZ

MENOMENA, THE PUNK GROUP, BINARY DOLLS
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) It's a flawed theory to think all people who make smart music are, in fact, smart people, but if any band was a worthwhile control group, it'd be the Ivy-Leaguers in Menomena. Dagger-sharp and armed with tuneful, thoughtful funky indierock, tonight the trio adds "civic-minded" to their stellar resume by debating my co-worker, mayoral candidate Phil Busse. I can't say who is smarter but when I yelled over my cubicle wall, "Yo, Phil, what's up with the Menomena thing," he answered, "They're calling the shots on this one." Hopefully they don't ask him to play a musical instrument. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

FRIDAY 5/7

POCOS PERO LOCOS: THE TOUR
(Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) See Feature pg 17

RICK BAIN, MY REGRETS, THE OUT CROWD, LORIS LANE
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) A while back Rick Bain and his band the Genius Position made a big splash with their album Crooked Autumn Sun, an addictive blend of British psych-rock influences. Everyone thought they were going to get all big and stuff, but then they sort of faded away. Rick Bain plucks on, though, and he's as good a singer/songwriter as ever. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

PARTY TIME, YOB, FACE DOWN IN SHIT, GRAVES AT SEA
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) You can use every metal description there is for Arizona's Graves at Sea, on metal-mecca label Southern Lord Records: Doom, black, heavy, stoner, surging, crushing, head-banging, aggressive, and most importantly, not for big whiney pussies. Check it, if you're game. KS

DJ TOBIAS, DJ BROKENWINDOW, DEREK FISHER & THEPERFECTCYN
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Joining the list of fine Portlanders who slough off our town for mondo pastures: Tobias, a fantastic DJ whose taste for skanky, gunky, heavy electro mixes should slip in with sweet ease after still-in-town DJs Brokenwindow, Derek Fisher & the Perfectcyn. His mixes, available on his website at lovetobias.com, are sick, and run smooth platters of vocal-friendly (Italo) disco through an affinity for classic electro touchstone sounds--bulletpoint toms; janky, assy bass--with some love for Euro-funk. JS

DJ ANJALI & THE INCREDIBLE KID: BOLLYWOOD
(Saucebox, 214 SW Broadway) It is a fact that showtunes are the world's greatest harbingers of joy and mirth. It is also a known fact that DJs Anjali and IK are Portland's most in-demand purveyors of bhangra. Combine the two and you get an archivally spectacular night at Saucebox--with Bollywood soundtrack faves hopefully compelling us all into the street for a group dance-off. Little black dresses: not a good look. Come dressed to reflect the vibrant soul flower/citizen of the world you are. Remember: your appearance reflects your inner health! JS

VAGABOND OPERA VARIETY SHOW
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) The Klezmer, bohemian presence of Vagabond Opera is always an unusual one, but tonight they're pulling out the stops to deliver a full-blown assault of entertainment. Following a narrative story line entitled "Maxwell The Monkey Meets The Moon," the performance will open with a theatrical collaboration between the Wowee Zowee Shadow Puppet Cinema, and Vagabond's Eric Stern accompanying the puppets with music and storytelling. And then it will become the raucous and operatic gypsy throw down we're accustomed to expect from Vagabond. Plus, a bellydancer. MS

NERVOUS EXIT, THE CHARMING SNAKES
(Kelly's Olympian, 426 SW Washington) They're called both poppy and proggy, irregular, and difficult to classify, but all you need to know is that Charming Snakes are full of energy and fill every venue with fun. And Kelly's Olympian, with all its raucous energy and motorcycle decorations, is already bursting with fun already. Oh jeez. It's gonna be a fun overload. KS

SATURDAY 5/8

LA FAMILIA: FASHION, ART, MUSIC
(Local 35, 3556 SE Hawthorne) Local.35 packs a lot of party into its store space, and tonight's rager ought to be a beaut. It includes a runway show that showcases Spring clothing lines; hair duties are being handled by the hip kids from Bishops, so the rock n' roll will abound, with The Pirate Sound System spinning records that span the wide worlds of punk and metal. MS

PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES, COBRA HIGH, THE PRIDS
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Pretty Girls Make Graves are proving to be Portland's MF Doom of punk rock: all promise, no delivery. Their last scheduled PDX show, at the Meow Meow, was apparently boarded up like a gulag. JS

TELEPHONE, MU MESON, BLITZEN TRAPPER, DJ JOELSKOOL
(Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) Telephone is coolÉ icey, and spacey, a sound that's pleasantly hollow and guitars as catchy as this friggin' flu I've had three times in the last month. Blast it. Anyway, I can't say no to this sort of smart, studious, keyboard rock. So why not say yes? KS

SUNDAY 5/9

BLOODHAG, STOVOKOR
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) Sci-fi and metal are two inseparable truths; as someone who loves the former a tiny bit more than the latter, though, I had to phone the Mercury's resident metallist Aaron Beam (formerly of instrumetal greats Lachrymator, currently playing... trumpet... in Ape Shape) to discuss sci-fi and metal's intertwinement, and subsequent cultural ramifications. He responded, "They're both multi-layered fantasy worlds that are obsessed with minutiae." Speaking of minutiae, Seattle's Bloodhag writes all their songs about cool sci-fi authors like Oregon's own Ursula K. LeGuin and dearly departed yet posthumously publishing godhead Philip K. Dick. Portland's Stovokor writes all of their lyrics in actual Klingon. You can't get much metaller, or sci-fister, than that. JS

PRIDE NW AWARENESS EVENT
(Silverado, 1217 SW Stark, 3 pm) I called the Silverado several times over the weekend, and nobody had any idea what was going to happen at the "Pride Awareness" event. So I visited Pride Northwest's website---no indication. So I called Pride Northwest, and a helpful voicemail automation directed me to visit their website for more information. In the end, I can only guess what's going to happen at the Silverado on Sunday. A Vegas-style cabaret of loud-and-proud drag queens? A casual, "we're here, we're queer, we're boring like you" gathering of polite queers? Or maybe just another night at the Silverado, with college boys shaking their junk for some extra cash, and a tired banner with the word PRIDE on it drooping over one of the walls. The only clear conclusion I've drawn is that, if there's actually a significant, six-hour-long event happening here, nobody in town knows how to advertise it. EVAN "the most brilliant intern ever" JAMES

DEVOTCHKA, ALL THE DEAD HORSES
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Devotchka--a sexy Denver-based gypsy-tinged folk/rock combo (think 16 Horsepower on a wild, red-wine-fueled run through Eastern Europe)--managed to put a huge smile on my face one cranky Sunday evening. Did I say, "Wow"? Did I mention the tuba adorned with Christmas lights, great songs, many bottles of vino consumed on stage, and the general spirit of good-natured revelry? BARBARA MITCHELL

MONDAY 5/10

GOGOL BORDELLO, SEACHANGE
See MWBW pg 19

GARY YOUNG'S HOSPITAL, MISTER METAPHOR
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) I haven't listened to Gary Young's Hospital's The Grey Album enough times to decide if Young--formerly Pavement's drummer/producer in the band's early days--is on to some cloudy, lo-fi, acid hippie art rock worth its weight in jewel cases, or whether this music really is so droning and flat that no future listening is required. Obviously, I'm leaning toward the latter end of the spectrum. The vocals can go off-puttingly off key, the tumbleweeds of feedback rolling through certain songs add only a cluttered element to an already disjointed album, and overall the material isn't dynamic enough to bring the music closer to the realm of interesting Fall-influenced acts, no matter what household-name experimental forces orbit Young's cracked planet. JENNIFER MAERZ

CARLOS KALMAR
(Schnitzer, SW Broadway & Main) The Oregon Symphony presents a series called "Spanish Inspirations," highlighting four composers (only one of them Spanish) who took an experimental interest in orchestrating impressionistic musical representations of Spain. Gustav Mahler once christened Emmanuel Chabrier's Espana "the foundation of modern music"; the piece is a mutant synthesis of two traditional Spanish folk dances. Manuel de Falla, a Spaniard, is known for his impressionistic, tonal poems resulting from a formally French musical training. Debussy, who was disgusted by the violence of Spanish bullfights, composed Iberia, admired by de Falla himself for its sensitive expression of Spanish motifs. Ravel is best known for his repetitive and suspiciously psychotic Bolero, his Rhapsodie espagnol is a brilliant orchestral articulation of three Spanish folk dances. All four composers crafted some of impressionism's most beautiful and productive experimental articulations, and Ravel's innovations predated musical expressions common in modern electronic music. EVAN "THE MOST BRILLIANT INTERN EVER" JAMES

TUESDAY 5/11

GET HUSTLE, OPEN CITY, BURNING STAR CORE
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) Some tuneless fun for the melody-phobic. Open City thrash catastrophically, filling the stage with howling improvised guitars and percussion with no directive. Burning Star Directive specializes in the drone, bludgeoning you with monotonous strings distortions and fucked up organ licks. It's my theory no one REALLY likes listening to this stuff--rather, we are intrigued by the thrill of survival. JWS

KATAKLYSM, MISERY INDEX, CANNAE, THROUGH THE DISCIPLINE
(Conan's, 3862 SE Hawthorne) One of the most versatile vocalists in his genre, Kataklysm's Maurizio Iacono ranges from a serpentine hiss to a fire-belching bellow, all set against some of the most technically transfixing backdrops in modern metal. Even more impressively, he enunciates: When he sings they are draining life with malevolent crystals, every syllable is malevolent-crystal-clear. Iacono's decipherable delivery is as unexpected as a dog that actually speaks the word "bark" with perfect pronunciation instead of releasing a gruff growl/yip hybrid. AM

THE A-FRAMES, PIZZA PARTY, THE WET HEAVES, THE INNOCENTS
(Porky's, 835 N Lombard) The A-Frames' thrilling, creeping whorl whispers "fuck rote," making better, bigger punk noise and twirling bass guitar strings like they're taffy and you're not going anywhere. Lyrics allude to ions and membranes and that's what they drop: mad, dirty-ass science. Their new record is coming up this autumn and it's gonna send us all through the floor, I just know it. Meanwhile, Pizza Party holds up the foundation with their own skuzzy arty punk. The best show ever? JS

GWAR, 3 INCHES OF BLOOD, WATCH THEM DIE
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) It's no secret GWAR sprays the crowd with gallons of fake excrements and sexual by-products. The challenge will be to fight to the front of the rabid Roseland crowd to get close enough to revel in the refreshing wetness. JWS

WEDNESDAY 5/12

IN FLAMES, KILLSWITCH ENGAGE, AS I LAY DYING
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) The End of Heartache, Killswitch Engage's brand-new disc, pulses with old-school thrash fury, offering all the cathartic kicks of a Slayer or Pantera show without the unpleasant guilt-by-association that results from swapping sweat with rowdy racists. Like many modern acts on the 10-ton-hammer side of the heaviness spectrum, this Boston-based act sacrifices speed and solos for chunky, chugging riffs. Howard Jones ranks among the scene's most explosive hardcore howlers, but Heartache proves he can croon a chorus with surprising grace. The group's syncopated down-tuned guitar lines could give headbangers whiplash, and its robust rhythm section makes every low-end rumble sound as if it's encased in lead. Opening act In Flames, also touting a recent release, continues its puzzling transformation from a vicious death-rock dog to an embarrassingly eager-to-please pop-metal puppy. AM

MY MORNING JACKET, M. WARD
(Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) Musical fame and fortune results in huge venues to perform in, which is not always a good thing. All best to M. Ward, who more than deserves the success his last gorgeous record Transfiguration of Vincent has earned him. But now he has to play in places like the Crystal, where his delicate finger plucks and gentle crooning will have trouble wafting all the way out to the balcony bums, or the folks buying drinks. Word is he'll be backed by My Morning Jacket, which may louden things up a bit, but then those sweet, soft Louisville boys aren't exactly Sabbath either. JWS

MURS, ELIGH, SCARUB
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) Three Living Legends bestow upon us their lyricism. Murs is back again on the considerable strength of 3:16: the 9th Edition (Definitive Jux)--possibly his least straight-out funny album yet, and one in which his contradictions play more acutely than ever. On the excellent "And This For," he addresses racial issues in hiphop's increasingly white audience (and, perhaps, the popularity of Murs' homeboys' labels, like Def Jux and Rhymesayers, with white audiences): "Now you could be down but let's act growed up/cause we ain't the same color when the police shows up/my culture's not a trend/being black is not inÉ this music is my life/not a cultural flingÉ and you are blessed to have a chance to even glance the scene." He goes on to express dismay that what happened to blues and jazz--white economic appropriation of a black art form--could happen to, or is happening to, hiphop. Meanwhile, on tracks like "Bad Man!" and "Freak these Tales!," he adds more overt lady-sexualization raps to his repertoire. Granted, they aren't the most misogynistic lyrics in the world, but it's disappointing that an MC so thoughtful in some areas can still come with that Draconian shit in others. JS