THURSDAY 11/25

I think I'm gonna be sick.



FRIDAY 11/26

LOW FLYING OWLS, THE VOLUMES, BLUE COLLAR SCOUTS

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) There's a buzz surrounding the Low Flying Owls, another one of these bands who is vaunted for their adept recycling of varied influences. Sick of pseudo critiques that only re-define the natural process of evolution within music history? Me too. Sounds like: a less sissy Pink Floyd, and not half bad at it either. Plus, welcome home the charming rapscallions The Volumes, who are presumably returning from tour, presumably because they need to get their matching outfits dry cleaned and they miss you. MS



LANGUAGE OF CONSUMERISM FEATURING KISS THE GOAT, ONGOING TOY WORKSHOP, BUY MY CABBAGE, CONSUMPTION JUNCTION

(Scarlet Ballroom, 700 NE Dekum) Also known as "Buy Nothing Day," on which you celebrate the biggest shopping day of the year by keeping your wallet in your pocket and giving capitalism the ol' ass-stick. Instead of going to the mall, visit the Scarlett Ballroom for an Enteractive Language Festival event featuring Butoh performers Kiss the Goat and musical project Buy My Cabbage. We learned long ago to avoid trying to categorize ELF performers; suffice it to say that Buy My Cabbage features a "sardonik sound jockey" spinning "a host of self-produced and appropriated media (Disc/Tape/Samples) to provide atmospheric, dance-oriented and site-specific sonic indulgences." JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS



OZOMATLI

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) The danger of incorporating loads of styles into your music is that it often comes out sounding like flavorless mush. Sometimes "eclectic" is just a euphemism for "bland compromise." Los Angeles' Ozomatli mostly elude this pitfall. They're poster boys for party-centric multi-culti music and their latest album, Street Signs, is a vibrant billboard of this ethos. Funk, salsa, and hiphop figure most prominently in their earnest, uplefting [sic] jams, but it's not unusual for tablas and sitars to usher Indian vibes into the mix. A tango sample and Czech orchestra here, appearances from Los Lobos' David Hidalgo, Jurassic 5's Chali 2na and Cut Chemist, and Latin jazz pianist Eddie Palmieri there, and you've got a world-music fiesta bursting with almost too much spice. DAVE SEGAL



CACTUS FLOWER WONDERLAND BAND
(Red and Black Café, 2138 SE Division) Hailing from one of those cities whose name the Looney Tunes always make fun of, Walla Walla, Washington's own Cactus Flower Wonderland Band play the kind of good ol' American folk music those chip-toothed Brits love so much. So much if fact that this band you've never heard of from rural Washington have been hand-picked one of those Beta Band dudes to fly out to Scotland and record an album for Domino Records. I know, right? Now's your chance to see them before they all get enveloped by Belle and Sebastian or something. ZAC PENNINGTON



SATURDAY 11/27

APHRODITE, SIDESTEP

(Level, 13 NW 6th) British DJ/producer Aphrodite (AKA Gavin King) is a master of jump-up jungle, an adrenalized, minimalist strain of drum 'n' bass designed to keep dance floors burning at maximum intensity. Given the extreme funkiness of Aphrodite's music, it's no surprise he's worked with several rappers, including Big Daddy Kane, Schoolly D, and Rah Digga on his 2002 album Aftershock. Whether spinning his own fizzing, powerful anthems or those of people like DJ Teebee or High Contrast, Aphrodite is one of the safest bets to whip up a killer drum 'n' bass party. DS



ALARMIST

(Kingdom House, 3829 NE 15th) Like all of the brightest burning stars, our familiar friends in Alarmist will in a mere matter of days be scattered Supernova-style. I guess science just wasn't in our favor. After releasing a fucking fabulous record in this year's Evil Works Get Rich or Try Dying Evil Works, the eternally stretched foursome are out at the top of their (admittedly brief) game--laying down their weapons just as they were about to behead the beast. But if science has taught us anything, it's that stars must go out with a purifying bang, which leads us to tonight's festivities. Say goodbye the only way that seems fit: in the sweaty confines of a house show in NE. ZAC PENNINGTON



THE EXPLOITED, TOTAL CHAOS, RESILIENCE, DOG SOLDIER

(Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) I wish I could say the Exploited were young, dumb and full of chum; instead they're old, cold and stink like mold--still, they're rated as one of the finest exponents of "classic" UK street punk. I'd reckon for good reason, too; since 1980 their mid-tempo, football chant, anthemic punk has inspired leather jacketed dippity doers onward towards an "an-archaic" nihilistic ideal. Tho', at this point, the Exploited are really only "political," their existence relies on continuing to sing wobbly, dimwitted anthems about a failed revolution which has long since come and gone. Oh yeah, about that "revolution"--um, how can I say this kindly... okay, dear spike headed punks, the revolution came and went... and you lost, so it might be time to take the spikes down. M'kay? It's cool if you don't, but just so you know. MIKE NIPPER



THE FIXX, DRUMATTICA

(Barracuda, 9 NW 2nd) The band that padded a thousand Totally 80s compilations did a lot more in their career than just hit #4 with "One Thing Leads To Another" in 1983--like, um, inexplicably staying together for 20 more years. ZP



THE GET ME DOWNS, cootie platoon, ms. 45

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Tonight is the CD release party for The Get Me Downs and their six-song EP. Vocals are at the forefront of this outfit, most often handled by Anne, who struts and purrs like someone who's done the homework on her predecessors. The music is bluesy, simple rock with familiar sounding hooks and jerks. Joining them are shitty-name-for-an-okay-band band of the night, Cootie Platoon, with sugary, choppy female vox that sound a bit like Japanese pop crossed with the Breeders, and set to music with a slicker, almost tough punk-lite edge. If these common threads of poppy/punky aesthetic and girly vocals are sounding good to you, then for sure don't miss openers Ms. 45, who are the sharpest and sassiest of the three. MARJORIE SKINNER



GWAR, DYING FETUS, ALL THAT REMAINS

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) So, I'm sitting in a tour bus with the substitute lead singer of GWAR (the real one was allegedly in rehab, or otherwise indisposed), and between drags on the fattest joint in history, he says the following thing: "Man, I love playing for the kids, but it's getting weird. It's like, as soon as I pull out my [prosthetic] dick, kids are screaming at me to come on 'em and bleed on 'emÉ It's like they're not even listening." True. SEAN NELSON



LALI PUNA, DUO 505, ALIAS

(Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 19



LANGUAGE OF THE BODY FEATURING SUCKAPUNCH, BEN MILSTEIN, NIK FURY, ONE ATOM 13, TRY MY CABBAGE, CIRCLE OF FIRE

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 19



LEWI LONGMIRE, HILLSTOMP, MORGAN GRACE

(White Eagle, 836 N Russell) An omnipresent artist on the Portland scene, Lewi Longmire has played in at least a dozen bands, and many of those affiliations remain active. Currently, he's devoting most of his time to his own trio, which plays loose front-porch folk like an electric jug band. Longmire has never released a CD as a bandleader, but he started mentioning the possibility about nine months ago. That gestation period ends tonight, with the birth of If I Live to Be 100. The White Eagle should be packed--his bandmates alone constitute a capacity crowd--and Longmire is urging fans to book rooms at the venue's hotel to ensure that this long-time-coming celebration won't end at last call. AM



MANNHEIM STEAMROLLER, CHIP DAVIS

(Rose Garden, 1401 N Wheeler) Hot on the heels of their 10th Christmas album, the relentless cogs of the Mannheim Steamroller are back to bowl you over with the holiday spirit. Because Christmas isn't only about commerce and depression--it's also about middling and unremitting Muzak. ZP



MIRACLE ENEMY, ZAPPNIN BLACK, MOTHER CHUMP, COWTRIPPERS

(Conan's, 3862 SE Hawthorne) For a hugely successful alterna-act, Primus spawned few imitators. That's partially because of the technical chops needed to ape that slap-bass sound, and partially because a divine cosmic overseer rightfully ordained that there only needed to be one Primus, lest the world become a toxic cess-Claypool of forced funk and madcap quirkiness. But the godlike gatekeeper of the sonic spectrum isn't unreasonable, and when Primus started to fade, He ordained that another group could start blending wacky lyrics with wildly erratic time signatures. As luck would have it, the chosen successors, Miracle Enemy, hail from Portland, and their giddy genre-hopping tunes play like the springy soundtrack to manic animated slapstick. ANDREW MILLER



MOFRO, DAVE ANDREWS BAND

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Mofro draws a jam-band crowd, which means guys in skirts given to saying "Mofro, bro!" and women whose entire wardrobes consist of precariously placed scarves. These curious characters' choreography relates only loosely to the songs, but when a spastic spin happens to coincide with an abrupt drum fill, it's a beautiful thing. However, Mofro differs from its prog-jazz-influenced peers, whose breezy tones belie the complexity of their compositions. Hailing from Florida's backwater swamps, Mofro prefers a stripped-down sound that generates grit from wicked slide-guitar work, thick low-end grooves and biting blues harp flourishes. Its shows are soulful revivals that can make arenas feel like dilapidated rustic tents--and in this case, that's an improvement. ANDREW MILLER



MYSHKIN'S RUBY WARBLERS

(Alberta St Pub, 1036 NE Alberta) The singer-songwriter Myshkin is a talented musician and performer working within a genre that will always prevent her from getting the attention she deserves. For some reason, Gypsy/World Music performers just aren't packing the Roseland these days, but maybe that's how it should be. Myshkin's sweet croon and lilting instrumentations are befitting of an intimate setting, not a vast concert hall. So come on down to her CD release party at the Alberta Pub and celebrate great music that exists because it wants to, and for no other ulterior motive. JWS



SUNDAY 11/28

31 KNOTS, JONNY X AND THE GROADIES

(20 NW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 19



LANGUAGE OF THE ALPHA WAVE

(OMSI, 1945 SE Water) An epilogue of sorts to this past month's hulking Enteractive Language Festival, the Language of Alpha seeks to elevate the audience in a much more immediate way than the fest's previous 20+ shows combined. Over an immersive, three-hour music and visual performance, the audience will hypothetically be brought to an Alpha state--a heightened level of brain activity that puts one into a sort of waking lucid dream. Prior to the show, the lobby will be filled with Dreamachines; the rudimentary, turntable-and-lightbulb hallucination engines patented by Burroughs associate Brion Gysin. If you can suspend your skepticism and are into the aforementioned Burroughs, Waking Life, or intense methods of self-psyche-modification, this is most certainly the Sunday night affair for you. SAM MICKENS



SONDRE LERCHE, GOLDEN REPUBLIC

(Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) Even sunny-sounding songwriters can suffer from deep depression. Without their acrid lyrics, Elliott Smith's lush compositions would resemble upbeat hymns of thanks for life's richest pleasures. Brian Wilson's dark undercurrents eventually stifled his sun-and-fun songcraft like a tsunami smothering a sandcastle. When extreme duress serves as a creative catalyst for achingly beautiful art, it presents a disconcerting dichotomy, one that might make listeners ponder the proportional relationship between emotional pain and profoundly pretty music. Sondre Lerche is one chamber-pop performer whose fans will never feel like scavengers on a tortured soul. Lerche, whose blend of jangly guitars, pristine piano tones, orchestrally enhanced melodies, and samba-style rhythms paint him as a Brazilian Burt Bacharach instead of a 21-year-old Norwegian, ranks among music's most relentlessly pleasant personalities. On a bleak landscape that touts the irony-addled euphoria of the Polyphonic Spree as a refreshing oasis, it's impossible to overstate the sublime spectacle of a gleeful singer inviting audiences to share his enthusiasm. Lerche is like a low-key Andrew W. K. for the Pet Sounds set. AM See also Music, Pg 21



MONDAY 11/29

NEKO CASE, THE SADIES, DEXTER ROMWEBER

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Though not the Dream lady that is Ms. Case, the Sadies' music is equally sexy and well crafted. They have rock n' roll souls trussed up in gentle folk turkeys. On their new album Favourite Colours, driving foot-tappers follow soulful ballads follow (gasp, swoon) an incredible track co-written and sung by Robyn Hitchcock. JWS



MEGADETH, EARSHOT, EXODUS

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 19



MEWITHOUTYOU, OWEN, THE SNAKE THE CROSS THE CROWN, DESPISTADO

(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd Ave) Philadelphia, PA, quintet mewithoutYou released their second full-length record back in August, Catch for Us the Foxes, the follow-up to their 2002 debut, with dynamic instrumentation and nontraditional vocal attacks are reminiscent of Fugazi. And although I haven't witnessed it for myself, I've heard stories of an intense live performance, including details like the band showering the stage with crushed flowers. It sounds like it could be a cheesy approach if not executed well, but here's hoping they pull it off, because I'd hate to see poor stage décor taint the fantastically melancholy sounds they create. Not nearly as morose as mewithoutYou's release, Despistado's latest EP, The Emergency Response (Jade Tree), is a playful and uncomplicated punk rock record. Quick, quirky guitars spastically bounce over lively basslines, and drums randomly convulse in multiple directions. Dagan Harding and Joel Passmore's paroxysmal vocals ricochet off one another, falling somewhere between sheer joy and total discontentment. MEGAN SELING



TUESDAY 11/30

NICE BOYS, CLOROX GIRLS, WESTERN DARK, MILLION DOLLAR MARXISTS

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Canadians Million Dollar Marxists play keyed up punk rock that hasn't yet been weighed down by years of pill popping or a blind drunk singer. It's punk rock rather than slop rock. Eugene-born rockers The Clorox Girls harmonize over their poppy speed punk, and although they might not always be perfectly tuneful, that doesn't seem to be the point. KS



WEDNESDAY 12/1

THE FORTH, MODERNSTATE, POINT JUNCTURE, WA

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The Forth is releasing their latest CD tonight, and with it are continuing to claim hold over Portland's extreme emo arena. The voices sail through emotive outbursts as the guitar driven drama gallops beneath it. Even if you're not really into the genre, you might find yourself making an exception. Flanked by quirky (and quirkily named) Point Juncture, WA and the sad, beautiful solace of one-man Modernstate, it'll practically feel like a night at the opera. MS



LET IT BE: REPLACEMENTS TRIBUTE NIGHT

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 19



MAYA SOLEIL, MARCH FOURTH

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) It's December First, 2008--World AIDS Day. You're wandering in the harsh deserts of Sub-Saharan Africa. You've been surviving on sand for weeks and fending off rabid, disease-ridden tigers with your last possession, a tattered, sun-bleached Smiths T-shirt. "How the hell did I end up in this mess?" you ask yourself, "and where the fuck does a girl like me have to go to get some Stumptown coffee in this apocalyptic wasteland?" Too bad you didn't go the annual benefit concert for Africa AIDS Response in 2004. Maybe if you'd taken a chance and blown a gasket to the sweaty fusion of Maya Soleil, a group that blends traditional African rhythm and vocals with contemporary jazz and fusion, none of this would've happened. And the orgiastic antics of the March Fourth marching band? You'd bet your ass they're done for, too, mister. This is your final warning. EVAN JAMES



WEEDEATER, JUMBO'S KILLCRANE, BLÖÖDHAG, ME INFECTO

(Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) The Slow Decay is an apt title for a new release from prog-sludge metalists Jumbo's Killcrane. The Kansas trio flattens heads with bulldozing riffs that lumber like a WWE giant on his way to a final knockout blow. Their slow, apocalyptic melodies sprout fangs every time Erik Jarvis emits a bloodcurdling growl, otherwise casting trance-like spells that drop anvils every song. JENNIFER MAERZ