THURSDAY 11/17

WHITE RAINBOW, UNRECOGNIZABLE NOW, GASP

(Apotheke, 1314 NW Glisan) Adam Forkner is arguably the king of the hill when it comes to the Northwest psychedelic music scene. Since the mid '90s Forkner has been creating space-warping waves of electric guitar noise, with instrumental space-rock band Yume Bitsu; as coveted axe-man with Devendra Banhart and Jackie-O Motherfucker; and currently as White Rainbow. Not that the man is treading water. White Rainbow's recent output has found him transmuting the standard drone experience into sagacious mind-body concepts about sound as light and the spiritual healing properties of music. Rumor has it White Rainbow may have found a place for itself at the mecca of space-rock recording labels, Kranky. JOSH BLANCHARD

DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE, STARS

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Long ago Death Cab frontman Ben Gibbard was in a band called Post-Nasal Drip. He might not want to remember awful high school bands now, but it's true. And it's important because it supports the idea that everything big must come from something small. While everyone's romanticizing the early Death Cab days, remembering the delicate, dynamic songwriter and his musical gang as awkward young men who could never end up as guest stars on a hit television show, let alone tourmates with Bruce Springsteen, it's even funnier to think of Gibbard as a high school kid with a band named after an awful bodily function. MEGAN SELING

LKN, MINMAE, THE EMPTY, JOHN LARSEN

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Celebrating the release of its 20th record, local label Greyday Productions presents a showcase featuring Portland's driest rock band, Minmae, plus the vibrant throb-thrash of Lauren K. Newman (LKN). The album itself is called 20 Nights of Wine and Song, a compilation of previously unreleased tracks from 14 Greyday artists. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

GRAXXUS, TIC CODE, DARK FORCES

(Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) You know what designation bugs me? "Math rock." Do I need a protractor to rock out to Tic Code? Does Ms. Martin, my 1993 trigonometry teacher, have to point out the intricacies of their music? None of this matters when Tic Code takes the stage, because that's when shit starts to get all Fugazi and Mr. Bungle and Helmet-y, and I'm transported back to that period of my life when those bands meant everything to me. CHAS BOWIE

HAND2MOUTH BIRTHDAY PARTY W/01 (POP MUSIC), KOTO Y SOTO, HOTT PINK, DJS BROKENWINDOW & P. DISCO

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) This is a dance party with super-fun electro bands Koto y Soto and HoTT PiNK, plus rad DJs. There're also going to be cakes. Chocolate cakes. Cupcakes. Monster frosted-doughnut cakes from Voodoo Doughnut. It's the fifth birthday of the Hand2Mouth experimental theater company, and they want to celebrate in style. So, if you are a hater of dancing, cakes, and local arts and culture, then I suggest staying home. Jerk. JWS

CHARLIE DROWN, RAILER, DEVILSPIT

(Sabala's, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Nowadays when you see a movie or a TV show that features teenagers going to a club, there's always some popular band playing—Death Cab on The O.C., members of Radiohead and Pulp in the new Harry Potter. However, 10 years ago protagonists would walk into a club, and you could tell the film's producers had just found some shitty noise band to appropriate what they thought was goddamn kids' rock 'n' roll. I'm pretty sure Charlie Drown supplied the shitty soundtracks for those sorts of movies. ERIK HENRIKSEN

FRIDAY 11/18

NORDIC, CONSULATE, THE FAST COMPUTERS

(Acme, 1305 SE 8th) I'm sure the Fast Computers get compared to Mates of State all the time. As a boy/girl duo that makes use of distorted keyboards and organs, the comparison is pretty much inevitable. But where Mates of State's adorable shtick turns into shrieking carnival madness after about, oh, two songs, the Fast Computers keep things subdued enough to remain cuddly through repeated listening. SCOTT MOORE

CHARLIE SEXTON, SHANNON MCNALLY

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Remember that "No Depression" thing? For a brief few months at the end of the '90s, it seemed like the outlaws were finally going to take back country music from the Ford-shilling, Monday Night Football-singing Nashville stooges. Unfortunately, they all gave up, died, or became Ryan Adams, leaving us with a string of pretenders who aren't poppy enough to make any money but are too safe to be really interesting—Like Shannon McNally, who writes some nice songs and has a voice like a raspy angel, but whose album I'm sending to my mom. SM

GHETTURISTA W/DJ BLACKMARKS, THE INCREDIBLE KID

(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) Listening exclusively to American music only lets you in on about three percent of the world's aural goodness. Here's your chance to catch up, courtesy of the Incredible Kid and DJ Blackmarks. Ghetturista is a new monthly dance party that bumps to Baile funk, reggaeton, dancehall, and grime—international fusions of hiphop, dance music, reggae, African soul, and Latino rhythms. The Incredible Kid and DJ Blackmarks have literally been scouring the globe for this music, buying cassettes from street vendors in Guatemala, Brazilian favela funk boutiques, and immigrant-owned music stores in New York City. Prepare to shake your ass. CB

HELL YEAHS, LEOPOLD AND HIS FICTION, CHAMPAGNE

(Bossanova, 722 E Burnside) San Francisco pop duo Leopold and His Fiction—aside from having a cool name—are pretty damn good. They have their White Stripes-y vocal arrangements, their indierock strumming, and a few guitar riffs that wouldn't be out of place on a Lynyrd Skynyrd album. They do more than inspire the lame name-dropping of other bands, however—namely, they'll make you nod your head and tap your toes. EH

EL-FEST: LANGUAGE OF PAN-ZEN

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Buried deep in this year's Enteractive Language Fest is a very exciting treasure: a Portland DJ set by Jason Forrest AKA DJ Donna Summer. While so many turntablists and IDM practitioners rely on obscure beats and samples, German-born Forrest mashes up music you know in thrilling new ways. "10 Amazing Years" turns a Who song into a badass air guitar dance masterpiece. Other compositions use clips from Elton John and CCR as their jump-off points. Even though the consensus is that interest in electronic music is hitting a lull, this is one show you'll kick yourself for missing. CB

DAMIAN "JR. GONG" MARLEY

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) I'm not like, "Oh, reggae is so played." But I will say that it's a fairly limited genre, and that Damian "Jr. Gong" Marley—the son of Bob and the "Miss World" of 1976—produces exactly what you'd expect: competent reggae that's more than adequate if you're in the mood for it. EH

SATURDAY 11/19

SUPERSUCKERS, DANKO JONES, ROCKNROLL SOLDIERS

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) I'm assuming Berbati's dress code requires that shoes be worn at all times, which is too bad, since Supersuckers and Danko Jones will be rocking socks off all night. The always-entertaining Supersuckers will surely be loud and drunk, and Jones will be loud and Canadian. SM

THE STANDARD, KINGSBURY MANX, THE HEAVENLY STATES

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) The Standard's mix of brisk-but-melancholy rock hasn't changed significantly since their 2001 self-titled debut. And while consistency works for some outfits, for the Standard it only works toward stagnancy. Guitars, pianos, and keys are melodic and low-key, drums not too flashy, and frontman Tim Putnam's fragile whimper still wants you to know how hard it all is. The sound has been called everything from emocore to post-punk to prog-pop. Whatever label you go with, this is undoubtedly beautiful music—only it's a little too content to sit there and gaze at itself in the mirror. GRANT BRISSEY

TOM VEK, THE WILLOWZ, MERCIR

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Since the unending swarms of "buzz bands" are routinely swatted away like so many mosquitoes on a Louisiana porch, make sure to catch this bill tonight so tomorrow you can tell your friends you saw them before they were "so this afternoon." Tom Vek is yet another electro waver, though his crackling 4-track debut, We Have Sound, gets downright fugly, plus there's humor in his mincing Brit voice and addled-Astaire dance moves. The Willowz ought to be either extremely tired or tight after all the touring they've logged in for their swell self-titled fourth CD, splotched with Dead-Moon-gone-cool-kid chug. ERIC DAVIDSON

PARTY FAVORITES, POWER OF COUNTY, THE HEADLINERS, PURE COUNTRY GOLD, PARTY COUNTRY

(Sabala's Mt. Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) The band name combo on this bill distresses me: Party Favorites AND Party Country? Power of County AND Pure Country Gold? Pure Country Gold AND Party Country!!? Headliners!!!!!? It's a big ol' mindfuck all right, but should be fun, if at the very least for Power of County, who fill the room with badass hillbilly rock. JWS

SUNDAY 11/20

THE DRIFT, MOODRING

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) The Drift take inspiration from Brian Eno's Oblique Strategies and Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities, and those touchstones hint at their becalmed post-rock/ambient meanderings that strive for surrealistic effect. But more often than not on their new album, Noumena, the Drift settle into lethargic stretches of gentle guitar ripples or placid Bark Psychosis-like peregrinations that rarely rise above pleasantness, though "Transatlantic" points to a promising Don Cherry-esque direction. DAVE SEGAL

PROPAGANDHI, GREG MACPHERSON, THE MEDIKS

(Loveland, 320 SE 2nd) Propagandhi canceled the final dates of their 2001 tour after September 11, proving even the band behind melodic thrash's most indelicate anti-military anthems knows when to practice solemn silence. Potemkin City Limits, their first release since that hiatus, spits pent-up venom at the US government. Propagandhi also skewer NOFX's Fat Mike, which is bold, given that he owns the label for which they record, yet counterintuitive, because he campaigns for the same progressive causes. Fat Mike probably knows not to take Propagandhi too seriously, given their history of balancing serious statements with slapstick stunts and alternating acrobatic eloquence with gratuitous profanity. ANDREW MILLER

LADYTRON, DJ SANTO, DJ JOELSKOOL

(Masu, 406 SW 13th) Austere Liverpuddlian pop band Ladytron invades the gauzy Masu space tonight with a DJ set that's sure to be a slick peek into the insights that feed their elecro-fused day-job band. A perfect event if you're feeling sceney and modern, you can bet it'll be a who's who both behind the decks and by the bar. MS

MONDAY 11/21

MXPX, RELIENT K, RUFIO, GO BETTY GO

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) One of the columnists at this weekly can't seem to make a joke about contemporary emo to me without including Rufio in the punch line. These jokes are almost never funny because, like 98 percent of the world, I don't actually know what Rufio sounds like. I do have a dismissive idea of how they could sound, though, and what kind of designer jeans they might wear. That's unfortunate. Headliners MXPX know the dismissive tide; shrugged at during the mid-'90s ska purge, then lost during the bands-that-ended-their-name-with-a-number punk era, and, well, gosh, they were never really "screamo." But Jesus' sons' latest, Panic, sounds like a band leaning toward the kind of edgy powerhouse rock that they should have always worn like armor. TREVOR KELLEY

JUNIOR PRIVATE DETECTIVE, BINARY DOLLS, DYKERITZ

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Portland trio Binary Dolls fills a space-rock-y void in our music scene, and does so quite nicely. Sounding at times like Radiohead and at others like Galaxie 500, Binary Dolls have the quiet-to-loud epic-crashing thing down pat. Nick Jaina's Fender Rhodes keyboard keeps things nice and fuzzy and warm down below, while the rest of the band hold shit together with a drum machine, an occasional trumpet, and soaring guitars. Rounding out the bill are Dykeritz and Junior Private Detective, both bringing along all sorts of feel-good harmonic goodness. CB

DEAD SCIENCE, SEA WEASELS, THE ADULT CONTEMPORARY

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl.) Xiu Xiu moonlighters Sam Mickens and Jherek Bischoff return with their coolly unpredictable Seattle avant-jazz band Dead Science. They're joined by local act Sea Weasels, who describe their own style as "loud music and soft music from Portland." So there you go. JWS

TUESDAY 11/22

TARANTULA A.D., BLUE CRANES, GINGANG

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Ya heard? Tumultuous, orchestral post-rock is blowing up among the brightest, artiest kids, and New York's Tarantula A.D. are as artful and bright (in a dark way) as they come. Their new album, Book of Sand, bears surprisingly robust metallic flourishes amid its gorgeously baroque song structures. Come, and feel all cultured and shit. DS

FIONA APPLE, DAVID GARZA

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Sony balks (or maybe it's Apple) at the avant-Disney production that LA avant-dude Jon Brion applies to it, but the original version of Extraordinary Machine leaks anyway, begetting a "Free Fiona" campaign and a recalculated budget that allows her to re-record with Mike Elizondo, who co-wrote "In Da Club." Yeah, I know. I read about it on your blog. It's not as dramatic as its story, but for mid-career singer/songwriter fare, Extraordinary Machine is pretty incredible—but one does wonder if the cultural ubiquity that Extraordinary Machine has currently brought Apple six years since her last round of touring makes her seem less like a consistent songwriter (which she is) and more like a well-deserved movement arching (which is debatable). TK

WEDNESDAY 11/23

THE LONG WINTERS, NORFOLK & WESTERN, HELLO DAMASCUS

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Once again John Roderick is able to create lovable hypnotic tunes on the Long Winters' new EP Ultimatum—but don't be fooled. This isn't the same type of Long Winters' stuff that appeared on 2003's When I Pretend to Fall. At first I was disappointed that they didn't follow up with more of their rockin' stuff in the vein of "Blue Diamonds" and "New Girl." But once I got over that, I realized the direction they took was just as brilliant. Instead of turning up the rock, they turned it down, focusing on stripped-down guitars, strings, drum loops, and mellow synths. The last album ended with the beautiful ballad "Nora," and it feels as if they picked up right where they left off, adding more textures and layers to the more haunting, intimate songs they're able to craft so well. CHRISTINE S. BLYSTONE

CHILDREN OF BODOM, TRIVIUM, AMON AMARTH

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) In addition to prompting rap and rock to seek a mutual restraining order, groups such as Limp Bizkit drove a wedge between "heavy" and "metal." Downtuned stutter riffs sound robust, but they're forever tarnished as the chosen weapon of recent history's most atrocious acts. Similarly, guitar harmonies and melodic choruses—elements the Family Values set ignored—have come to symbolize real-metal purity, having outgrown their hair-band stigma. Even synthesizers, which fans savaged Iron Maiden for incorporating in 1986, have become a valued extreme-music fixture. Counterintuitive as it might seem, Children of Bodom's fey keyboard-and-soaring-solo passages rate devil-horn salutes, while their chunky staccato segments prompt sellout shouts. ANDREW MILLER