THURSDAY 9/29

3 INCHES OF BLOOD, LAST EMPIRE, AMONGST US, PRETTY KILLSWITCH

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) If somehow I were able to translate into music the physical feeling I have when someone condescends me or acts like a fucking bitch for absolutely no reason—I'm talking to you, you flippant snatch with the ugly baby at Trader Joe's—it would sound like Amongst Us. Combining hardcore screaming, intense shitstorm drumming, and guitar solos that blow my mind—this band is giving us a fresh dose of angry, explosive metal mayhem. KATIE SHIMER

ACID MOTHERS TEMPLE, PLANTS, THE OCCASION

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

CAPTURED! BY ROBOTS, FILTHY WHITE TRASH, ROARING LIONS, DJ LUPO

(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) It's difficult to sum up the bizarre spectacle that is Captured! By Robots in one small paragraph. Part Mystery Science Theatre, part Gwar—the band's lone human member, "Jbot" is subjugated by the quirky machines he created and forced to tour relentlessly—playing mechanized butt rock. The project is pure gimmick, but if anyone has a better idea for a gimmick drop me a line as I'd love to buy it from you. The homemade robots in question are ingeniously constructed; they play guitars and horns, wobble around maniacally and call audience members "douche bags." Whether you consider this sort of thing groundbreaking or eye-rollingly dorky, it is indeed a sight to behold. Speaking of dorky, did I mention that songs on this CBR tour are all about Star Trek: The Next Generation? 'Nuff said. JOSH BLANCHARD

PINK SNOWFLAKES

(Fez, 316 SW 11th) Having discovered why not to eat the yellow snow at an early age, I'm wary to imagine what mystery liquid pink snow might contain. Thankfully the only fluid likely to be found in the Pink Snowflakes is a few drops of liquid LSD. The group's day-glo psych rock doesn't lean on trip-tastic '60s flavors—choosing instead to pay homage to some of the genre's other notable touchstones like the Dead, the Pink Fairies, and the Flaming Lips. While the band's wigged out, flanged guitar excursions feel like they want to take their listeners as high as a kite, the songs are often kept grounded by a fondness for middling '90s college rock. I'd love to see these guys get off the fence and either craft some great pop tunes or dive headlong into some dimension-warping meltdowns. JB

SIGUR ROS, AMINA

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Iceland's Sigur Rós are generally the aural equivalent of spun sugar. Their electronic pop is airy, elegant, and unbelievably sweet—from the angelic, indiscernible vocals to the grand symphonic orchestration. Their latest release, Takk..., is no different, but adds crystalline instrumentation that breaks like icicles, murderous birdcalls, and thundering avalanches of chilling sound. JENNIFER MAERZ

THEE SHAMS, THE GLOSSINES, THE NEINS

(Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Swampy, sweaty, and more than a bit Stones-y, Thee Shams turn the blooze into barroom boogie, where you can just hear the beer bottles breaking as folks shake it to the Gabbard brothers' sound. The Cincinnati band surrounds themselves in fuzz and Farfisa, coming at you through a haze of '70s rock nostalgia and rambling riffs. JM

FRIDAY 9/30

AFFAIR AT THE JUPITER HOTEL FEATURING THE DEEP THROATS, BARR, DJ P DISCO

(Jupiter Hotel, 800 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week! pg 19

DENGUE FEVER, GIANT BUG VILLAGE, DJ I LIKE IT

(Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) See CD Reviews, pg 25

THE HUNCHES, THE BUTTFRENCHERS

(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) Hometown homies the Hunches have been lurking around our corridors for a while now, playing out catchy R&B rock-romantic numbers that are cleverly disguised under a heavy cloak of particularly loud garage rock, augmented by the occasional vacuum cleaner. Sort of a local standby, like Stumptown coffee or the Interstate MAX line. MARJORIE SKINNER

M83, THE DOUBLE

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See CD Reviews, pg 25

THE NATIONAL, CLAP YOUR HANDS SAY YEAH, talkdemonic

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) See Music, pg 21

NWEAMO 2005 FEATURING LUCKY DRAGONS, TROY ROGERS, BEN HUNTER, JOHN P. YOUNG, ANDREW STOLTZ, AND MORE

(Portland State University, Lincoln Hall) The now-international NWEAMO (New West Electro-Acoustic Music Organization) festival is primarily a celebration of connections: of highfalutin' electronic music and traditional acoustic sounds, of avant garde ideas and popular forms, of Northwest musicians and their international counterparts. Portland's two-day offering is the second stop on the festival's touring schedule (last week it was in Mexico City, next week San Diego), and features Providence, RI's ultra-brilliant—yet totally palatable—Lucky Dragons. See www.nweamo.org for full details. ZAC PENNINGTON

SEXY PANTS, THE DIVORCE, BRYAN FREE, VELCRO

(Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy) I know, you know, we all know the New Wave, '80s revival, jump-around cat-banshee sing-song thing is just, like, the rage, and Seattle's the Divorce is all that and more. It seems like it would be annoying how willingly they embrace every current hip rock cliché imaginable, but somehow it's actually kind of refreshing. In the largely pretentious musical world the Divorce have chosen to inhabit, they are surprisingly unpretentious, thanks to earnest, free-flowing songwriting with self-deprecatingly humorous lyrics, and the fact that they seem to be enjoying themselves with an unrestrained joy rarely witnessed in indierock. Lead singer Shane Berry looks like he weighs about 70 pounds, but he can really belt it out—it's fun to watch. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

JOHN VANDERSLICE, CRYSTAL SKULLS, LACKTHEREOF

(Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See Make Me a Mix Tape, pg 41

WITCH MOUNTAIN, ACID KING, DITCHLIQUOR, WOLVES IN THE THRONEROOM

(Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) With its denizens' refusal to let go of the tie-dye—and the clusters of stinky hippies with dogs named after weed—it was looking for too long like San Francisco's tripper scene was dominated by Deadheads. Luckily, there are variations on that theme, one of which is boiling your brain in the doom stew by Bay Area legends Acid King. Whether you call it stoner rock or Satan's sludge, the trio lays down brick-thick riffs over which frontwoman Lori S. evokes red-eyed metal sorcery. Over the last decade, these guys have gigged with everyone from the Melvins to Sleep, and their hypnotic headbanging power will shake the flashbacks from your spinal column. JM

SPACE MTN, THE CAROLINES, DERBY

(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) Space Mtn is an LA pop band fronted by a sweet-voiced young woman whose lyrics sound like patronizing advice from your babysitter. The steez is bunny rabbits and slumber parties, with feminist-lite sentiment, electro-modern influence, and rudimentary guitar strumming. The song, "Oh," although not smashingly original, is the best, with a funky plunky cabaret opening, bouncy patty-cake vocals, and a low growl of static surge. It's also the shortest song on debut album A Drawing of a Memory of a Photograph of You. There are other pretty moments, such as "I Die," but mostly it just makes me hate the marketing beast that tries to sell you something that exhibits minimal courage and a rock 'n' roll spirit to rival Jewel, or maybe Celine Dion's AC/DC moment, as some kind of notch on the bedpost for "female-fronted" (photographable!) music. MS

SATURDAY 10/1

BLACKALICIOUS, APSCI, QUIVAH

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See CD Review, pg 25

FOUR TET, JAMIE LIDELL, KOUSHIK

(Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See Music, pg 23

IDLEWILD, INARA GEORGE

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) It may be the preponderance of harpsichord, the mournful folk melodies, or simply the lucidity and directness of her singing, but Inara George's excellent debut, All Rise, seems rooted in ancient times. That's not to say she isn't capable of crafting upbeat, infectious coffee shop pop, such as "Genius" and "Good To Me." It's just that, at her strongest—as on the masochistic "Turn On/Off," or the haunting Joe Jackson cover, "Fools in Love,"—George's voice embodies the somber, fatalistic spirit of jilted medieval maidens. Scotland's Idlewild recall Monster-era R.E.M., deftly blending arena rock bombast with jangle pop, creating something that sounds like radio rock, but without all the guilt. KIP BERMAN

T. RAUMSCHMIERE, GLASS CANDY, THE CHROMATICS

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Marco Haas wants you to understand he aims to blow people away—with volume. Visit t.raumschmiere.com—the website of the Berlin-based producer's alter ego, T. Raumschmiere—on the right-hand side click "The Game." Quickly your keyboard mobilizes a single-minded, pivoting tank in a mutated Space Invaders scenario. With a megaphone barrel, this armed vehicle aims at an advancing cascade of ears. This same tank appears on the inner booklet to T. Raumschmiere's recently released, fourth full-length, Blitzkrieg Pop. While on the "Blitzkrieg Pop" single, a variation—a rifle with a megaphone grafted atop—is displayed prominently. This mecho-pugilist menace fits the technofistfetish grind of T. Raumschmiere's music and reminds listeners that Haas is gunning for you. TONY WARE

TECH N9NE, POTLUCK, PHUNK JUNKEEZ, COOL NUTZ, DJ CHILL, KUTT CALHOUN, BIG KRIZZ KALIKO

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Portland's Cool Nutz is recognized by regional heads as a hiphop institution, a model for the independent game. He's been involved for over a decade, spinning hiphop on the radio, running a record label, and founding POH-HOP, Portland's hiphop festival. His raps are on the gangster side of things, but their main theme, their deepest concern, is the City of Roses. CHARLES MUDEDE

SUNDAY 10/2

DENGUE FEVER, PROFESSOR GALL

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) See CD Reviews, pg 25

THE FIERY FURNACES, ROARING LIONS

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Sensing the inevitable backlash sure to accompany their soon-to-be released third record Rehearsing My Choir, critical darlings the Fiery Furnaces strike out on a reconnaissance tour of the states. Following the universal acclaim of last year's daunting epic Blueberry Boat, it's safe to assume that were it not bloated and self-indulgent, it wouldn't exactly be the Fiery Furnaces—but I imagine very few people expected Rehearsing My Choir. Featuring a hefty chunk of the vocals mannishly performed by Matthew and Eleanor Friedberger's 82-year-old grandmother, Rehearsing is the very definition of pop indulgence—often at the expense of its musicality. It might be something of a kick in the teeth for the Blueberry Boat contingent, but personally I find it rather admirable that the band continues to challenge their listeners—extending their bizarre mythology beyond single albums to a sort of sweeping oeuvre. Besides, they've already got another pop album in the can—so just hold your horses. ZP

MONDAY 10/3

DUNGEN, MIA DOI TODD

(Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See Music, pg 21

THE FRAMES, JOSH RITTER

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) An essential part of having a stellar experience at SXSW is stumbling upon an arrestingly good band that you've never heard. Last year, the Frames gave me that crucial moment when I showed up early for the Calexico show and was immediately sucked into the opening band's set. Along with equally transfixed Mercury contributor Kurt B. Reighley, I watched frontman Glen Hansard basically rip his guts out for public consumption. Imagine a folk-tinged, Irish version of Radiohead and you're getting close. Despite valiant attempts by esteemed producers like Steve Albini and Gil Norton, their recordings don't convey the jaw-dropping beauty of their live performance, so get your ass to this show and catch them in the best possible context. HANNAH LEVIN

FRANZ FERDINAND, TV ON THE RADIO, CUT COPY

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) You Could Have It So Much Better is an apt title for these Scottish dandies' cocksure sophomore swagger. Their jubilant mix of deviant disco and mischievous liaisons is angular pop with a witty kick. Here they dally in blunt come-ons, entertain punk tangents, and proffer romantic piano balladry—for frontman Alex Kapranos's leading lady, the Fiery Furnaces' Eleanor Friedberger. Really, it's tough getting it too much better than this. JM

THE MATTOID, THE VULTURINES

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Scandinavian anomaly the Mattoid is one part Jonathan Richman, one part Moldy Peaches, and several parts grating—but mostly in a good way. Alternating between dopey Finnish baritone and Cookie Monster roar, The Mattoid's sound is primarily straightforward American Rock n' Roll®, but married with sometimes oppressively silly narratives. It's often rather charming, in spite of itself. ZP

TUESDAY 10/4

MIKE DOUGHTY'S BAND, ERIN MCKEOWN

(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) Mike Doughty was the frontman for Soul Coughing, a band that somehow managed to blend beatnik-style spoken word and avant garde jazz into something enjoyable to listen to. That achievement is so incredible, I am almost ready to give Doughty the benefit of the doubt on anything he tries hence—I mean, these days he's more into singing and melody, which seems like a cakewalk in comparison. JWS

WEDNESDAY 10/5

BLACK DICE, BLOOD ON THE WALL, SPIDER & THE WEBS

(Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See Music, pg 23

THE COUP, LIVESAVAS, CROWN CITY ROCKERS, DJ KEZ

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) The last few times the Coup have been in town, I've seen them—but it's been pretty damn bad. DJ Pam never shows up, Boots plays with a loud, disorganized live band, and the show is just a recycling of hits off Party Music and Steal This Album, both of which were released more than four years ago. It's obviously pathetic when bands like INXS resurrect themselves and tour to make money, but it also starts to be pretty pathetic when a supposedly anti-capitalist hiphop outfit rides painfully on the fading success of stale politics and albums. This time around they're releasing a new 12", which is something. So if you LOVE the Coup, support them now that they've done something new. KS

THE PLOT TO BLOW UP THE EIFFEL TOWER, JONNY X & THE GROADIES, RABBITS, DESTRUCTOTRON

(Loveland, 320 SE 2nd) Bratty San Diego art/punks with the longest moniker you can actually remember, the Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower bring their upwardly mobile and smartly dressed asses back to town. Last time the Plot played Loveland with the Locust they nearly stole the show—regurgitating Birthday Party No Wave, Liars-esque dance/punk, and classic high-energy rock and roll. Sure, the singer looks like he's practiced all his moves, facial contortions, and mic swinging in a bedroom with mirrors on every wall—but he's good at it. And the band behind him are delivering music that's nearly in the realm of Six Finger Satellite with angularity, anxiousness, and occasional bits of outer space weirdness. That puts them right at home alongside hometown heroes Jonny X who will transform the Loveland into a cavernous, fog-filled laser battle. NATHAN CARSON

EMMYLOU HARRIS

(Schnitzer Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) Emmylou, sweet Emmylou, still has one of the clearest, most beautiful voices in all of music. She's simply never flagged, continuously putting out quality countryish pop for 30 years. And she's a spokesperson for PETA. So leave the fur at home. JWS