THURSDAY 1/12

WEIRD WEEDS

(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) Austin's Weird Weeds may be the most fully realized young band in these United States. Their tremendously tender and moving experimental pop is built of unusual components, but feels airtight in its conception and execution. Two guitars, one indulging in utter jazz decadence and beauty, the other drawing shivery textures with pieces of chalk and other implements, drape architecturally over pin-drop-sensitive drums and pure, yearning singing. Though all three members wield all varieties of stylistic weirdness and extended technique, it all feels so compositional and so confident that their music melts into one intensely beautiful and perpetually exciting whole. They are, as one is wont to say, the "greatest band you've never heard of." SAM MICKENS See also Music, pg. 17.

WINTER (IN)FORMAL: SEXY PANTS, DJ GREGARIOUS

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Tonight's Mercury/Thrasher Low Dough Show is all about two words: SEXY... and PANTS. While most Winter Formal dances lean heavily on the "formal," the Mercury knows what we like to see, and that's the stuff stuffed inside your SEXY... PANTS. So dig out your most alluring trousers, 'cuz we'll be handing out prizes, as well as crowning the Winter (In)formal King and Queen, who will be choosing some sexy hot-pants-wearing individual to go out with. THEN shake those sexy pants to the spins of DJ Gregarious! THEN shake them some more with the heeee-larious antics of sex-crazed boy band SEXY PANTS. Wow! What a fortunate surprise that Sexy Pants is playing at the Winter (In)Formal, which is all about two words: SEXY... and PANTS! WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY

MARK KOZELEK, CORRINA REPP

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) On record, Mark Kozelek is the James Taylor for those of us who read Paste Magazine and shop at Urban Outfitters, but when placed in a live setting, the former Red House Painters frontman has the mouth of a sailor and isn't afraid to command the stage like he's Axl Rose. (After grabbing a set list at a show in Portland a few years ago, he looked down at one lucky fan and sneered, "What are you going to do, hang that up on your dorm room wall?") While such surliness might make Kozelek three degrees less likeable as a person, it also makes him at least 18 degrees more interesting as a performer, where his unpredictability can often serve as entertainment between his softly played songs. A 2005 album of Modest Mouse covers under the name Sun Kil Moon has currently brought the San Francisco-based troubadour more attention than his previous records were able to, but at the heart of any Kozelek disc is a man whose voice is as heartbreaking and perfectly damaged as any of his more successful peers. TREVOR KELLEY See also Music, pg. 15.

ELIOT LIPP, SUBTITLE, DJ TAN'T, LEO 123

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 13.

FRIDAY 1/13

TRACTOR OPERATOR, ALEXIS STEVENS AND BIG SPOON, LITTLE GIRL

(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) Newish local record label Smells Delicious released the new Tractor Operator CD back in October. The self-titled 13-tracker is fuzzy, folk-pop that rages and chills and surges through a Neutral Milk Hotel-ish cracked dreamscape. It's weird stuff, in the best possible way—Bright Eyes-ian samples of rickety household noise, birds chirping, lyrics about napping, and walking on stilts. But I swear to god the weirdest thing happened when I was listening to track two and, after sneezing uncontrollably through the first 20 seconds, suddenly realized there was someone on the CD sneezing too, back behind the music, kinda buried but nevertheless totally audible. I guess it is Friday the 13th and all. ADAM GNADE

DITTY TWISTERS FINAL SHOW

(White Eagle, 836 N Russell) After six years of making a whole shit-ton of raucous rock 'n' roll, the Ditty Twisters are calling it quits. Loud, fun, and full of all the right kinds of trouble, they deliver a combination of punked-up covers and hysterically original rock numbers that will make you dance your ass off. For their final good-bye, there are rumors of unforgettable surprises that are sure to see them off with a fucking fantastically big bang. CHRISTINE S. BLYSTONE

THE HUNCHES, SHELLSHAG, HEADLINERS, GUITAR LICKER

(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) Good lord, I've fucking had it with bands playing carbon copies of their albums live. And when they just stand around, posturing... Shit, you might as well stay home, turn up the CD, and stare at the cover. We go out to be entertained, and we must demand it. We need to see some shaking, some sweat, and at least a few ounces of passion. So take note of Exhibit A, the Hunches. Portland's increasingly soulful garage-rock innovators never put on a dull show. Screaming, howling, swimming, rocking on top of the amps, or strutting down the bar, they never disappoint. Even a slow night for them is crammed with more danger and passion than most bands could ever hope to possess. ANDREW R. TONRY

GIANT SAND, THE QUAGS

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Giant Sand's lengthy and venerable career is a pretty remarkable achievement in the arena of indierock, particularly considering the utter disregard for stylistic calcification that the Tucson-based unit has flown high since its inception about 20 years ago. Over their tenure, the band—eternally led by high-art-Marlboro Man Howe Gelb—has dabbled in uncountable strains of sand-dusted rock 'n' folk, and presently inhabit a strange stylistic space that drapes the black velvet of European drama queens like Serge Gainsbourg and Ennio Morricone over the fuzzy lens of lo-fi contemporaries like Smog and the Mountain Goats. Their most recent effort, 2004's Is All Over The Map is, as its title implies, their most frantically scattershot record to date. Beefheartian desert rock, faux-Cuban mini-dramas, languid prepared piano pieces, and a child-fronted cover of "Anarchy in the UK" all sit in glorious juxtaposition and, again, reassert Giant Sand as the endlessly muse-chasing heroes they are. SCOTT MOORE See also, My What a Busy Week, pg. 13.

APESHAPE, SIX FOOT SLOTH, CAC, THE DEARLING DARLINGS, IRONIC T-SHIRT

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl.) Apeshape is always a fascinating band to see, considering they have about 20 members and perform more as a rock orchestra than just a regular old band. Their music reminds me of Sandinista!-era Clash, with a beautiful mess of saxophone, trumpet, keyboard, trombone, and the usual suspects—bass, guitar, and drums. Six Foot Sloth are likewise worth your time, playing sweet, melancholy songs and spicing them up with keyboards and cool echoey vocals that will lull you into a perfect music-watching trance. Fitting, as it's Friday, and you, my friend, need to relax. KATIE SHIMER

HR & DUBB AGENTS, LUMINOUS FOG

(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) See Music, pg. 15.

BOBBY BIRDMAN, COPY, PANTHER, TRUCK-ASAURUS, BEYONDA, DJ COPY, DJ EJB

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) While most press coverage of our local music scene is splashed with blurbs about overexposed A-liners like the Decemberists or Sleater-Kinney, this triple header of a release show truly sums up much of what makes Portland so special, whether all you droves of newcomers know it or not. The three "headliners" are stellar solo acts, warping technology and personal charm to their own devices: Panther, the showman; Bobby Birdman, the sentimentalist; Copy, the craftsman. What they all have in common is fuckin' excellent new albums on E*Rock's two record labels: the venerable Audiodregs, and the new vinyl-only Fryk Beat. Feel the love, Portland, feel the love! JOSH BLANCHARD

SATURDAY 1/14

DEVIN PHILLIPS AND NEW ORLEANS STRAIGHT AHEAD, JOHN WEINLAND, LOCH LOMOND, NORFOLK AND WESTERN

(PSU's Shattuck Hall, 724 SW Harrison) The Associated Students at Portland State University would be a great band name, but for now they're just a group of, well, students at Portland State University who put on cool stuff, like tonight's kickass benefit for Hurricane Katrina. "Rock for Relief" begins with sweet jazz at 7 pm courtesy of Devin Phillips and New Orleans Straight Ahead, a band who relocated to Portland after the New Orleans destruction. Then, at 8 pm, it's time to stop chilling and get grilling (I can't believe I just wrote that) with the dobro-licious folk rock of John Weinland, the mournful campfire ditties of Loch Lomond, and the criminally underrated Norfolk and Western, whose lilting, rhythmic contributions will hypnotize your heart. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

ROLLERBALL, THE BLUE CRANES, BEIGE FERRARI

(Acme, 1305 SE 8th) Why you gotta keep changing on us, Beige Ferrari? The earth-toned band is the newest musical junket from Jason Sands and Beth Borland of the Reeks and the Wrecks/Spooky Dance Band/Trauma Le Tron continuum. We really shouldn't hold their sometimes beguiling band swappage against them though, as all of their previous incarnations have been consummate mediums of spirit-soaked, elemental rock, and Beige Ferrari is likely to continue that fine tradition. Tonight's bill at Acme is also rounded out by Rollerball's masterful art-prog meditations and the reverential jazz stylings of the Blue Cranes. JB

MONKEY TRICK, I CAN LICK ANY SOB IN THE HOUSE, DIRTCLODFIGHT, PACIFIC BLASTING

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) See Music, pg. 17.

STARS OF TRACK AND FIELD, DERBY, THE 88

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) After dropping their debut EP back in June, Stars of Track and Field have done pretty damn well for themselves: regular radio play on 107.7 The End and KRNK; top-selling Portland artist at Music Millennium for 2005; sold-out shows at Doug Fir and Crocodile Café in Seattle; new record deal with SideCho; the list goes on. The band's guitarist Jason Bell emailed last week to say they're working on their full-length debut and should be releasing the thing in May. After that they're touring the US, western Europe, and Japan. WTF, huh? AG

GALLAGHER

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) God bless Gallagher. What I like about the dude is that he steadfastly refuses to admit how crappy he is—despite his entire act now consisting of bitter old man rants and (yep, still) smashing oversized fruit with a mallet. When asked by the Oregonian about how he felt when he was ranked as the 100th best standup comedian by Comedy Central, he ranted about how the rest of the list didn't consist of "anyone I ever heard of," then declared that he "invented the one-man show on cable," and wondered Michael Keaton and Tom Hanks were "millionaires and living in Beverly Hills" while someone with his "skill and ability" was stuck "renting a condo." (In the same interview, he talked mad shit about David Letterman, Jay Leno, Johnny Carson, Robin Williams, Chevy Chase, and Jim Carrey.) "America wants the mediocre," Gallagher proclaimed, perhaps while polishing his giant mallet and gearing up for his totally not-mediocre practice of smashing watermelons and calling it a comedy show. "It doesn't want the heroic or moral." Ah, Gallagher. You might be the least funny guy on the planet, but at least you're angry. That counts for something, right? ERIK HENRIKSEN

SUNDAY 1/15

JOSH "THE SINGING MARINE" GRACIN

(Outlaws, 722 E Burnside) Come out this Sunday (bloody Sunday) and meet (douchebaggy) pop country (no) talent Josh (looks like a giant retarded baby) Gracin of (questionable at best) American Idol fame! It's a meet and greet (and puke and want to die and gouge yer eyes out with the end of a wire hanger) down at Outlaws (read: five-foot-tall disco ball in the shape of a cowboy boot). Don't miss this (and you'll live a happy, healthy life and get laid every day and have a nice, glowing, natural tan like George Hamilton, only real.) I know a lot of Marines. A good friend of mine is marrying one. None of them sing pop music. In fact, I think they'd probably push Josh Gracin off a pier if they met him in person. I would too. AG

MONDAY 1/16

Take a personal day.

TUESDAY 1/17

GRAYSKUL, BARFLY, COLEY COLE, DIM MAK, DJ WICKED

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Contrary to what I've heard, like, six people this week say Grayskul isn't a He-Man-themed hiphop novelty group. Instead, they're a serious underground rap act with some fugged-up lyrics ("take first place in a pageant like JonBenet/be found in the basement dead the next day"), good production, and a deal with the Rhymesayers label. Onry Ozzborn, JFK (also of Oldominion), and bass player Rob Castro dropped their latest, Deadlivers, not long ago, and have been out on the road supporting it with a live band and better flows than a busload of their peers. Three busloads. Four. AG

WEDNESDAY 1/18

ROB DICKINSON, ADAM SHEARER

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) I always thought Rob Dickinson's Catherine Wheel was a big, stuffy load of boring British, faux shoegaze, middling alternative rock crap. Dickinson's new solo record, Fresh Wine for the Horses, is all right... it's just kind of... adult, and not in a soft-core porn Cinemax late-night humpin' way. More like, mellowed-out rock 'n' roller dude does album of "serious" songs with a well-placed cover (Warren Zevon's "Mutineer") thrown in for cred factors. BUT none of that matters—the album's cover art is the real gem. In a romantic explosion damn near Rocky and Apollo Creed frolicking in the Venice Beach surf in Rocky III, a moody-looking Dickinson is shown releasing a Ziploc bag full of seahorses (!) into the sea as a frothy wave crashes into him. Have you ever seen a seahorse live? Me either! Just dried dead ones at shell shops in fuckin' Florida or something. These are real! AG