THURSDAY 7/1

PDX-POP CD RELEASE STARRING SUCKAPUNCH, PORTLAND GENERAL ELECTRO, CLOROX GIRLS, BINARY DOLLS, DJ NIGHTSCHOOL
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) As you know, Portland's size (medium) is disproportionate to its number of talented musicians (gianormous). This, of course, can be attributed to the fact that it's profoundly cheap to live here compared to other cities with similar amenities, attracting droves of artisans in search of basements. Portland's also built on a foundation of DIY philosophy (and an inherent mistrust of large-scale propaganda), which is how next week's local-music-centric, three-day-long, free PDX POP NOW! Festival was organized. Like the fest, its accompanying double album, a compilation of all PDX-area artists, pairs nationally known folks (The Shins, Decemberists, Quasi) with local faves (Wet Confetti, Per Se, Loch Lomond). Tonight's release party is more proof that the little flowers are flourishing: four more high-qual groups who aren't even on the CD, ranging from punk (Clorox) to electro (PGE) to trip-hop (Sucka) to vinyl slingers of popular-music-and-underground-punk (Nightschool). Fantastique! Way more on this whole deal in next week's issue. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

DEMOLITION DOLL RODS, GET HUSTLE, STARANTULA
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Isn't there some expression like, "Believing is half the battle"? Well--if not, I just made it up, and I'm talking about rock music. I mean, who wouldn't want to see a real shitty band that's just totally feeling it over some cooler-than-thou "I just dropped by to pick up my accolade" snore factory? It's just more fun to watch, period, even if it's funny. Luckily, the Demolition Doll Rods are anything but shitty, and they are feeling it so hard they can't keep their clothes on. Margaret Doll Rod's howls, snarls, and "uhs," alongside the enthusiastic, spasmatic guitar of Danny Doll Rod, and the raunchy, urban beat of Christine Doll Rod's drumming make for a sound that gets me more patriotic than I've felt in four years. MARJORIE SKINNER

CALEXICO, VIVA VOCE
(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Like the desert wind that so thrillingly inhabits their music, Calexico blows through town for what feels like the 23rd time in the last year. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I could listen to their horn-infused Southwestern rock till the cows come home, and live they always put on a good show. Lead singer Joey Burns is the wonderful kind of frontman who's unafraid to engage the audience. He talks and cracks corny jokes, but does it with such unabashed ease it's entirely charming. There's a lot of great music out there, but very little of it has this much personality. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

PHOENIX FESTIVAL
(Columbia River Gorge Campsite, George, WA) A gathering of the tribes in a beautiful, remote corner of Oregon, Phoenix Festival covers many electronic-music bases on five stages. If you're the camping kind, you can experience sets by, among many others, hiphop worthies Blackalicious, the Coup, Supersoul; breaks and jungle from Tipper, Dara, Hive; downtempo, ambient, and IDM from Nordic Soul, Mr. Projectile, Instrumental Ward; and our pick to clique, the Rhythm Circuit stage with techno and house sets by Jeff Samuel, Lusine, Bruno Pronsato, and Jacob London. See www.phoenixfest.com for more info. DAVE SEGAL

FRIDAY 7/2

ASOP, HIMSELF, THE RAMSEY BROTHERS, SIDEWAYZ SPEECH, DJ FREIZE
(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) Portland's Ramsey Brothers bridge two eras, throwing back to the noisy soul melodies and straight cadences of '90s hiphop (yesss, with a little Tribe) while living in the era postmodern, radioactive production qualities of Neptunes and Timbaland. However, it's far more off the kilter of your expectations--nostalgia it's not; just another line in a trajectory. Lyrically, the quartet combines a positive outlook with pop-culture references, and don't club you over the head with a message, but definitely have one. Emerging emcees Doc Jack and Stylus wind up their words and spit 'em out whipsmart, but the secret weapon is Ms. Su'ad, who's "on so many missions I need Asics to keep track." With a tonal quality somewhere between Roxanne Shante and Mystic, Ms. Su'ad is a superpower addition to the quartet (which also includes DJ Freize, a fine turntablist on record). But lest we forget Asop, of Living Legends, otherwise known as the Black Wolf: this is his first solo show in Portland, and you can bet he'll bring with the fire, hopefully from his promised forthcoming record. JS

CASCADIAN DEPENDENCE DAY: AIRDICK, CASCADIAN KNIGHTS, DJS PDISCO, BROKEN
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The last relevant reference to our actual country I've seen during the past couple Fourth of July celebrations was when my friend Max chugged whiskey, puked on the flag, and swung it around so it sprayed chunks on everyone. Finally, the Holocene crowd is addressing the government's failings in an equally funny, but less gross way. The hilarious Lightbox Studio kids will be mangling the Star Spangled Banner and Pledge of Allegiance with such weaponry as modern interpretive dance, plus giving speeches! Then is Airdick, a freedom-loving air metal band. I kid you not. Also, the futuristic "Separatist" techno group Cascadian Knights. Then dance the revolutionary night away w/DJs P Disco & Broken. And people dress nice at Holocene, so no barf spray. MS

MC5, MONDO GENERATOR, SUFFRAJET, FIREBALLS OF FREEDOM
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Yeah, yeah, everyone's talking about how much Mark Arm's ruling and Evan Dando's too stoned to notice, but the REAL surprise-buzz here should be on NYC croon-grimeys Suffrajet. Frontwoman Simi is s-a-s-s-y and classically trained; she swiggles around like a rock-damaged 'Retha doing Roxy Music covers on the D train. Their drunk-glam swaggers between the dirgey and the poppy, but is almost always pompous and heavy enough to actually pull it off; unlike every other Brooklyn nightclub-chic act you're sick of, Simi & Co. have balls. They may not be deserving of much more than a flash in the pan--but damn, is that flash bright and fun to watch. JOAN HILLER

FORENSICS, TEXTBOOK TRAITORS, DEAD LIKE DALLAS, GERRITT
(Solid State, 221 SE 9th) Dead Like Dallas' takes all the best aspects of heavy music and puts them together in one package. The wailing, cacophonous guitars and blistering solos bring enough metal mayhem to make the band on their own, but add the foreboding bass drum and the frantic screams of the singer, and this shit becomes amazing. Dead Like Dallas is going to tear the house down. KATIE SHIMER

LIV AND THE WARFIELD PROJECT, THE CHOSEN, SAND PEOPLE, DJ SNEAKERS
(Ash, 225 SW Ash) Proof that Portland is karaoke-obsessed: Liv & The Warfield Project. Here is a local woman, Olivia Warfield, who is now known for her infectious stage presence and strength of voice; for whipping up audiences to dance during her sets of original soul music; and who got her start by singing karaoke in the same goofy bars that you do. Except, you know the people at the k-bar no one wants to follow, because they actually have talent? That's her. And the ones who atonally sing while humping their duet partner in a drunken stupor? That's you. MS

THE DEAD, ROBERT HUNTER
(Columbia Meadows, Hwy 30, 33 miles West of Portland) Confession: I've listened to the Grateful Dead's hits comp What a Long Strange Trip it's Been more than any record ever. Back in middle school, I was a hyper mammerjammer and--pre-booze--needed heavy artillery to sleep at night. So, when I came across the aforementioned comp, I found my meds. The warbling, bud-mellowed guitar drift-outs and Jerry's sickly, off-key coo KO'd me in, like, two minutes flat, and I used it every night for years. But do I vouch for the post-Jerry "The Dead"? No fucking way. Cashin' in via grave robbery is gross. ADAM GNADE

CALVIN JOHNSON, SUGARBUSH, DJ ZAC LOVE
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) Ranging from acoustic folk to a cappella swampthing blues, CJ's latest rec, What Was Me, sounds like chain-gang songs sung by a bullfrog--which makes me immensely happy. (The fact that he sounds a little drunk neither helps nor hinders--it just makes sense.) The best song on the CD, "Lightning Rod for Jesus," is a gospel duet with a howl-voiced lady moaning soulful backed by church handclaps. Perhaps I'm wrong, but it sounds like it's The Gossip's Beth Ditto--and if so, it might be the best collabo concept in duet history. AG

FAT WORM OF ERROR, METALUX, ALARMIST, YUMA NORA
(Grand Central Bowl, 808 SE Morrison) Fat Worm of Error's dense noise assaults feel like the work of evil Beastie Boys, studio savants with a sadistic streak. Guitar feedback clashes uncomfortably with uncouth clamor, an inhuman racket occasionally interrupted by amelodic wails. Fat Worm of Error's live shows have several advantages over its recorded material, which creates additional discomfort by making listeners wonder if their sonic-shard-spewing CD players require repair. In a potentially dangerous demonstration, spectators can learn how to craft their own noise bombs. ANDREW MILLER

SATURDAY 7/3

MUM, WHY?
(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Dude! Let's move to Iceland! Most all the Icelandic music I've heard sounds like Martians playing icicle drumsticks on frozen mini xylophones while ice-skating through Superman's Fortress of Solitude. And it's no difference with Mum--gentle, chilly, '60s Star Trek background tinkling mashed with a Close Encounters of the Third Kind wrap-party IDM DJ set. HOWEVER, even if we stay in mucky ol' stank-pit-county-fair America, we can be content with Mum's gorgeous latest, Summer Make Good, blasting 'til the cows come in--and by "cows" I mean flying space snakes! AG

CLARITY PROCESS, EVER WE FALL, FAREWELL MY ENEMY, SMALL TOWNS BURN A LITTLE SLOWER
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) Clarity Process' experimental emo-core is replete with singing that goes from guttural screaming to heartfelt pop mewling, and frenzied instrumental changes that always leave you a step behind. They're interesting, for sure, if you like a lot of heart and energy--and, of course, plenty of sweating. KS

PRINT PROPAGANDA: LYREBIRD, REBECCA PEARCY, THE CULOTTES
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) An art opening showcasing the print and press art of performers Iris Porter (Culottes) and Themba Lewis (Lyrebird), tonight's performers are a lovely triad featuring no-frills, solid, delicate songwriting. JS

KASKADE
(Ohm, 31 NW 1st) Kaskade's culling of Chicago house ventures beyond standard 4/4 oomph and empowered vocal diva charges. On his latest, In the Moment (Om), the Chi-town-bred/SF-parked DJ allows for plenty of space and easement, subtly pasting in handclaps and melodies for graceful dancefloor abstraction that climbs before it smacks. Pleasingly, he's not afraid to get small; Kaskade's soulful house makes you feel good cause you want to, not cause you're supposed to. JS

THE JUVENILES, THE COOPERTONES, TEENAGE HARLETS, CLOROX GIRLS
(Twilight, 1420 SE Powell) Someone must have gone a little squiffy under all the stress of booking and decided to play a joke. I mean, squeezing The Coopertones, a stubborn middle-aged band whose most frequent comparison is to Dire Straits, between The Juveniles and Teenage Harlots? Dude, that's pretty mean. Why don't you just call it Ben-Gay Sunday? If this is not a joke, then The Coopertones playing tonight had better think up another name, ASAP. MS

RUSH
(Clark County Ampitheater, I-5 North from Portland, Exit 9) With 30 years of recorded material to its credit, Rush has thoroughly established its musical template: sci-fi keyboards, erratic guitar patterns, Richter-scale-measured rhythm-section rumbles and earnest vocals tempered with a tortured-rodent squeak. There's nothing groundbreaking on the newly released Feedback EP, either, given that it's stocked with Rush renditions of classic-rock staples such as The Who's "The Seeker" and Cream's "Crossroads." But Rush takes mean, mean pride in its solo showcases, such as Neil Peart's lengthy gold-plated drum displays, Geddy Lee's acoustic mini-set (which bares shocking subtleties in his vocal phrasing) and guitarist Alex Lifeson's ill-advised spontaneous spoken-word pieces. AM

SUNDAY 7/4

OLDOMINION, SLEEP, JFK, SIRENS ECHO, PALE SOUL, BISHOP, SMOKE
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) It happens about as often as a total eclipse, but when the Wu-Tang Clan's members are in perfect alignment, that star-crossed collective can be one of the most dazzling live acts in the hiphop galaxy. Each rapper performs a stellar solo showcase, then the group unites for some full-cast chaos. Oldominion's Independence Day affair should follow a similar format, with members of the deep-rolling crew taking the stage separately before lighting the fuse for posse-cut fireworks. Unlike Ol' Dirty, Oldominion tends to keep its cool during concerts, increasing the odds that this will be a relentlessly engaging evening and not a scattershot procession of slurred shout-outs. AM

JONNY X & THE GROADIES EIGHT-YEAR ANNIVERSARY/VEGAN CHILI COOKOFF, DOOMSDAY 1999, ROBOTS IN DISGUISE, THE PHARAMONES, R.A.D. (RADICAL ART DANCE)
(Liberty Hall, 311 N Ivy) This is, without a doubt, the most fun event of July 4. With all-lady Ramones cover band/dance ensemble, The Pharamones, and a special secret performance by R.A.D., whose simple "Radical Art Dance" moniker promises only greatness. See Music pg 19

CLUTCH
(Sabala's, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Clutch has always struck me as one of the coolest band names. It's one syllable, it's easy to say, it denotes total badassness, and fits perfectly with their unique bass-heavy musical equations. The band has been around for over 10 years now, and has been playing pretty much the same music the whole time, with their new album Blast Tyrant being no exception. But then, that's the beauty--Clutch is perfect just the way they are. KS

MONDAY 7/5

FLEETWOOD MAC
(Clark County Amphitheater) Did you ever, as a discontented teen, fantasize who your pop culture parents would have been? My rock mommy was always Stevie Nicks. I imagined I could rest my head on her tiers of chiffon and ask questions my real mom couldn't answer, like "What does it feel like right before your septum is going to blow?" I wuv her. MS

TUESDAY 7/6

RICHARD THOMPSON BAND, JACKIE GREEN
(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Here's the thing: Richard Thompson has been responsible for some great songs in the past 30 years, both as a solo artist and as a member of folkadelic Fairport Convention all those years ago. Talent and occasional brilliance notwithstanding, Thompson's live act could use a dab of modernization. He's a masterful player and a fine singer. His moves, however--to say nothing of his attire (leather pants AND a beret?)--owe a debt to a bygone age. I'm not trying to be superficial, but sometimes the show gets in the way of the show, you know? SEAN NELSON

RHYTHM OF 84, THE RED LIGHT STING, GERLING, THE BELMONTE ACADEMY
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) Australia's Gerling is a band so slick you could fix your lipstick in its stylized reflection. They mostly recorded and produced their first U.S. release, Badblood!!, in their own studio, and it's an amazingly catchy dance-punk thrill for fans of Bumblebeez 81, the Rapture, and Radio 4. JENNIFER MAERZ

SARAH MCLACHLAN, BUTTERFLY BOUCHER
(Rose Garden, Winning Way) See CD Review pg 19

WEDNESDAY 7/7

TOM HEINL, BOBBY BARE JR
(White Eagle, 836 N Russell) Elegant, sometimes even majestic arrangements. Captivating songwriting. A smoky voice blooming with the wisdom of the ages. Lyrics like this one, off the song "Let's Rock and Roll": "There is vomit running down the walls / That vomit don't care where it falls." These are the elements that form the utterly quirky folk/country veteran Bobby Bare, Jr., a prodigious talent who combines the best elements of grubby Jerry Jeff Walker-style honky-tonk with the best kind of current indie music artistry. Live, he'll rock your socks off, and then he'll hold you close, giving you sweet kisses with nicotine-stained lips. JWS

THE FLIP-TOPS, THE SOVIETTES, THE DEL TOROS
(Twilight, 1420 SE Powell) Minneapolis power-pop punks the Soviettes are a very bouncy band. The female harmonies spark and soar, the guitar riffs sound soaked in the same sugary sweetness, and their pace is set at a Red Bull run. JM

THE LIGHTS, SOLACE BROTHERS, RUN RETURN
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The Lights' debut LP, Beautiful Bird (Bop Tart Records), offers eclectic rock nuggets nestled between the bars of their post-punk constructions. Songs like "Hawaii" and "Train" are showered with glints of lo-fi, Slanted and Enchanted -era Pavement, but with lyrics more slacker than cerebral as guitarist/singer Craig Chambers deadpans in the chorus for the former: "This is not an order, and this is not a line, this is just the way that I breathe when it's summertime." There are wisps of other bygone bands drifting though Bird --the Fall's dreary, a-melodic punctuations and jarring moments of vibrating noise; Wire's off-kilter arrangements and clinical drone; the Animals' garagey, jazzy drumming and mixed vocal trajectories; and Joy Division's wintry effects. JM