THURSDAY 2/16

IRVING, BLITZEN TRAPPER, ALAN SINGLEY & PANTS MACHINE

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Irving's former road manager, Shafter Wasco, crashed on my couch last week for several days. He used up all my hot water washing his socks, left half-filled bowls of Froot Loops piled on my coffee table, dropped a microwave in my bathtub, and left something sticky on my cat. And I'm pretty sure he took a poo in the upper tank of my toilet. As a parting "thank you," he forked over Irving's new album, Death in the Garden, Blood on the Flowers, which I happily listened to on repeat for about nine hours. It's undoubtedly '60s inspired, but not in a patronizing way, and with every member contributing songs, the constant variety keeps things interesting. It almost made up for the cat thing. SCOTT MOORE

TRACTOR OPERATOR, THE MORALS, SEXTON BLAKE

(Food Hole, 20 NW 3rd) The Morals frontman Casey Moral has one of those honest, straightforward, convincing voices where everything he sings sounds like he means it—and sounds like he's singing it just minutes after the lyrics' events (be it love, adventure, or drama) went down. It's that perfect mix of tuneful and cracked, almost raspy, but not. While Casey does his thing, homeboy Ben Moral plays guitar, sings a little, and helps weave folk structure, harmonica ronks, and acoustic guitar into fine, catchy, respectable pop. See for yourself: myspace.com/themorals. Oh, and they're local. You and me—we're always looking for good local music, right? Fuck yeah, we are. I love you too. ADAM GNADE

FRIDAY 2/17

POINT JUNCTURE, WA, ANTLERAND, QUIET COUNTRIES

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) It's a damn near checklist of Portland musicians who guest on Quiet Countries' latest album, No One Makes a Sound—there are peeps from Talkdemonic, Point Juncture, WA, the Snuggle Ups, Junior Private Detective. And the one man who is Quiet Countries—Leb Borgerson—has a class act here, with a slick, confident, and dark record filled with his lilting vocals, pulled guitar notes, warm keyboards, and shuffling, moody beats. So here's my question: If all this shit's going on, why does Quiet Countries just make me want to take a nice long nap? ERIK HENRIKSEN

READING FRENZY BENEFIT W/QUASI, VIVA VOCE, SCUFFLE & DUSTCOUGH

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Forever in the monolithic shadow of the Powell's mega super bookshop leviathan madhouse, humble little Reading Frenzy has a tough row to hoe. But they've made it work over the years by stocking reads you won't find anywhere else and nurturing a bona fide grassroots literary community with consignment setups, regular art shows, events, readings, and the all-important FREE ZINE RACK. But don't worry, Chloe from Reading Frenzy says business is doing A-okay; it's just that Sam Coomes (Quasi) and Chantelle Hylton (Blackbird Presents) don't give a CRAP—they're throwing a benefit anyway and bringing out some big guns. (And anyway, "doing fine" for a place like Reading Frenzy isn't exactly on scale with Powell's "doing fine.") Tonight Quasi, Viva Voce, and the squealy, hard-rocking fuckers from Scuffle & Dustcough do their part and turn it up for their friends at the Frenzy. PS—Reading Frenzy, you turned me onto Cometbus years ago, so I owe you big. If you want me to toss a bomb in Powell's and burn it down, I will. Just kidding. REALLY. I AM. Sheesh. AG

NO-FI SOUL REBELLION, HOTT PINK, ROOT VILLA

(Food Hole, 20 NW 3rd) Bellingham's well loved No-Fi Soul Rebellion are a married duo that opted to start a stripped-down, balls-out party band instead of... well, being a boring old married couple. Live, songwriter Mark Heimer condenses his love of soul, glam, and punk into prefabricated iPod jams as the two work the crowd into a dance-freak frenzy. On the more thoughtful side of the rock spectrum are Root Villa, a Salem-based foursome awash in breezy harmonies and effervescent guitar reflections. Their self-titled CD is gussied up with watercolor fantasy art and delicate pop gems that at times resemble some of the Smiths' more understated tunes. JOSH BLANCHARD

AL FRANKEN

(Arlene Schnitzer Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) Say what you will about the shrill hacks that make up the vast majority of the Air America radio lineup, but Al Franken is one of the funniest men in the country. But why, exactly? It's hard to say for sure, but it probably has something to do with his understated delivery and the lengths he'll go to set up a punchline. But I think what really makes his shtick enjoyable is when it bombs. It's easy to tell a good joke, but try telling a bad joke and still making it funny. You probably can't, because you're not Al Franken. Unless you are Al Franken, in which case, can you get me a comp ticket or two for the show? SM

SHOW ME THE PINK, SCREAM CLUB, MUSTAPHAMOND, PINCHERS OF PERIL

(Richland, 1232 SW Salmon) The Zoobombers have a lot of shit going on with their Mini Bike Winter, most of which we apparently can't talk about for fear of getting them shut down. Like, what, riding a bike in this city is a crime now? Anyway, unless you live in the Footloose town, dancing isn't a crime. But if it were, Show Me the Pink and Scream Club would be charged with conspiracy and incitement. So what do bikes and dance punk have to do with each other? Everything, that's what. SM

PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES, THE PUNK GROUP, CAVES, DJ GREGARIOUS

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) With their upcoming album, Elan Vital, their second for megalith Matador, Pretty Girls finally kind of sound like their own band. Instead of keeping the Discount comparisons rolling, they have started shouting down Babylon. Having metabolized some sounds from all their varying side projects—Gun Called Tension and drummer Nick DeWitt's solo project Dutch Dub—rhythm and dub-ub-ubiness is a central focus. Drums are kicked 1/2 rather than 4/4, the guitar is drenched in delay, Andrea Zollo's vocals are plenty upfront and wombed with space. And then there are the melodica solos. JESSICA HOPPER

SATURDAY 2/18

BUCKETHEAD, MARCUS EATON

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) I have been close to being murdered more times than I'm willing to admit. One of the worst, then, was this summer when my band played a show on the same block as prog wank-funk guitar sensation Buckethead's big-time concert. I guess his show ended before ours, so the man's drunken, baseball-capped fans drifted down the block and stumbled into our happy little punk club. We were called "fags," "niggers," and "Nazis" (?!) We were stared down with boozy, shifty, Manson eyes. I thought the jig was up. I thought we'd be scalped or raped or turned into human footballs or skin lampshades. Now, I'm sure not all Buckethead fans are as hateful, brain-dead, and intrinsically AMERICAN as those were, but let's say I'm a little gun-shy. Still, our guitarist did see Buckethead without his bucket on buying coffee up the street and said he was pretty nice and not the ridiculous clown we figured he'd be. Go figure. AG

CLEVELAND STEAMERS, SANTOTZIN, VILLAGELLIOTT, MANIC D, DEBASER, MONEY SHOT, DJ VENOM 33 1/3

(Tiger Bar, 317 NW Broadway) Seriously, Mic Crenshaw is one busy dude. How he has the energy to juggle projects like Suckapunch, Hungry Mob, Womb Dialectic, and Cleveland Steamers, the world may never know. God willing, some of these kids like Santotzin and Manic D will help him out with some of the heavy lifting. SM

LUCINDA WILLIAMS

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) See Music, pg. 21.

DK PDX FINAL FRONTIER W/NICKY CLICK

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Scream Club's protégé, Nicky Click, is already on their level, if not a touch beyond (abolish hierarchies!). Click does not rap so much as her words pause and slither to land on beat, her voice is breathy and coquettish. She owes more to Berliner bad girls like Peaches and Kevin Blechdom, with her self-conscious, self-empowered, self-help jargon-laced feminist tropes, earnest via ironic, minimal electro, rather than any Southern club bass that being on a label called "Crunks Not Dead" would otherwise imply. Her forthcoming debut, You're Already a Member, is due later this year. JH

SUNDAY 2/19

ARCHER PREWITT, HEROES AND VILLAINS, THE M'S

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) The M's exude big-city cool while playing catchy garage rock, meaning this group is to Chicago what the Strokes are to New York. Yet, despite a critically touted debut, the M's remain under the radar, which is where similarities with the never-underrated Strokes end. The Windy City quartet's bright harmonies, ingratiating hooks, and festive horn accents make its songs genuinely inviting. (Headliner Archer Prewitt boasts the same Midwestern warmth and melodic acumen.) The group's new second disc, Future Women, plays like a Kinks career overview, on which artful psychedelic numbers collide with urgent, jagged-riffed stompers. ANDREW MILLER

DOLLY PARTON HOOT NIGHT

(Mississippi Pizza, 3552 N Mississippi) Mississippi Pizza's Dolly Parton Hoot Night throws together some 66 million performers to tributize Dolly and raise cash for Siren Nation, an in-the-works all-lady music, art, and film festival. Will it be better than Lilith Fair's blasé adult-contempo yawn fest? Well, the Juanita Family, Flat Mountain Girls, Take the Blame, Excuse Me Sir, Marie Fleischmann, Tamara J. Brown, Marisa Anderson, Escape from Keyboard Island, Ask Irene, Sarah Dougher, Heather Perkins, Ashleigh Flynn, Leah Hinchcliff, Lovers, Government Cheese, and Amber Martin (from House of Cunt) all think so. AG

CHURCH OF PSYCHEDELIA W/WHITE RAINBOW, BONUS, ARGUMENTIX

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music, pg. 19.

MONDAY 2/20

JACKPOT RECORDS PRESENTS: MUSIC PART ONE

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) In the immortal words of MC Hammer, "ring the bell, school's back in, sucker!" Tonight the Towne Lounge hosts part one of its weekly music listening parties. Jackpot Records' staff will be spinning choice selections from 1965-1969 garage/psychedelic obscurities, 1980s and 1990s black metal, and picks from the "roots of hiphop 12" pre-1996." These may seem unrelated and all, but who gives a fuck—music is music. Hiphop, black metal, garage, psyche... when it's Jackpot's soldiers choosing the cuts, you're in good hands. PS, Next week will be 1969-1974 garage/psychedelic obscurities, a doom metal history lesson, and the last 10 years of hiphop 1996-2006. AG

TUESDAY 2/21

THE NICE BOYS, ZOLAR X, RECTANGLES, SPACE CREATURES FROM THE YEAR 3000

(Sabala's, 4811 SE Hawthorne) The bizarre, near decade-long history of Los Angeles glamsters Zolar X had been unjustly forgotten by most reasonable people for close to a quarter of a century—until Alternative Tentacles shed some merciful light on the band via the 2004 anthology Timeless. Taking Bowie's Ziggy-era alien theme to its ridiculous extreme, Zolar X were a perfect product of '70s California: somewhere between a proto-glam metal band and a real-life amassment of obscure Hannah-Barbera villains, the quartet seem primarily known for their ridiculous costumery—glittery body suits, giant platforms, Vulcan/Brian Jones-style wigs, My Favorite Martian antennas. Zolar X might come off like glam's answer to Spinal Tap... because, well, they sort of are. ZAC PENNINGTON

SEVENFOLD, NON POINT, SOCIAL BURN, WICKED WISDOM, ONE

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) ATTENTION MATRIX NERDS: WICKED WISDOM IS FRONTED BY JADA PINKETT SMITH!!! AG See Music, pg. 19.

BIG HEAD TODD AND THE MONSTERS, JACKIE GREEN

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) I wish there was some sort of garlic necklace or holy water squirt gun or speeding silver bullet to keep those evil 1990s from coming back to haunt us. Hey Todd: Please pivot thy Birkenstocks away from us and go back to where thou comest! Big Head Todd and the Monsters, I drive a wooden stake in your college-rock heart! AG

WEDNESDAY 2/22

BIG BUSINESS, THESE ARMS ARE SNAKES, RED FANG

(Sabala's, 4811 SE Hawthorne) When These Arms Are Snakes' Oxeneers or The Lion Sleeps When Its Antelope Go Home came out in 2004, I sent out this big, crazy, wild-eyed email where I recommended it to everyone I'd ever so much as typed two words to. A few months later I started hearing back from people and the general consensus was, "I bought it, played it once, and never listened to it again; it's too brutal!" So to tailor my recommendation a bit: If you're into loud, shrieking, stuttering, passionate hardcore punk that spits fireballs and snaps riffs like alligator jaws, this show is your big, righteous, SOS answerer. If not, stay home. I don't want to be responsible for your baby ass getting hurt. Maybe try the Big Head Todd and the Monsters show. AG

GREGG KOWALSKY, BEN BRACKEN, GHOSTING

(Apotheke, 1314 NW Glisan) See Music, pg. 21.

LAZARUS, TIGER SAW, NAOMI

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) Newburyport, Massachusetts' Tiger Saw makes soft, sweet, tiny indie-folk songs for your gentle heart and mine. Their 2005 release, Sing!, on the Kimchee label, is full of happy little folk rockers constructed like jazz but articulated as Americana. Lazarus (there's a few of 'em; this one's from San Francisco) makes fucked-up, rowdy, messy folk-rock that sounds like the Pixies' great "Where Is My Mind" as covered by Neutral Milk Hotel. Don't miss either one. AG