THURSDAY 2/5

BELLES & WHISTLES: UNI & HER UKELELE, FOXTAILS BRIGADE, MARY VAN NOTE, GREY ANNE

(The Crown Room, 205 NW 4th) See My, What a Busy Week!

DELTA SPIRIT, OTHER LIVES, DAWES

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Delta Spirit transcends their generic name with music that may initially seem just as generic, but is artful, durable, and incredibly satisfying—major-chord, Beatlesque, feel-good pop. The tightly composed songs are led by the nasal-soul yell of Matthew Vasquez, and the band ripens them with harmonies and no-nonsense arrangements that are about as comfy and universal as a pair of jeans. Their first full-length, Ode to Sunshine, effortlessly moves from peak to peak before climaxing midway with "People, Turn Around," a tune that is that rarest of beasts: a sing-along that won't make you want to stab yourself in the brain. These guys could probably fit on almost any bill with almost any band, and you're probably going to hear them all over the place in the coming year; hopefully their accessibility and exposure won't dull the soul-shine glimmer that makes their unpretentious pop songs feel so good right now. NED LANNAMANN

OH CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN, MIMICKING BIRDS, MORNING TELEPORTION

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The latest winged creatures swooped up for Isaac Brock's majestic aviary, Mimicking Birds are primarily the work of one Nate Lacy, although onstage the band operates as a trio. Lacy's hushed voice is the centerpiece of the band's foggy sound, and while the Birds are just represented by a few sparse songs and not a proper recording (which one assumes will be released sometime this year courtesy of the Modest Mouse frontman's Glacial Pace imprint), the gentle talent of Lacy's bending melodies and coy voice are easy to latch onto. You might not yet be familiar with the words he sings, but you'll love these songs all the same. If not, it's only a matter of time before Lacy disassembles this band and reforms as Mimicking Byrds: The World's Greatest Byrds Cover Band. Oh, and if Lacy needs a (late-era) David Crosby, I'm your man: I look like shit and my liver is a dead organ, but man, you should hear me harmonize. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

FRIDAY 2/6

NIGHTMARES ON WAX, DJ KEZ

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

BENDER '09: KING LOUIE & THE LOOSE DIAMONDS, STATIC STATIC, HARLAN T. BOBO, THE FUCKING EAGLES & MORE.

(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) See review.

ALVIN YOUNGBLOOD HART, BABY GRAMPS

(LaurelThirst Public House, 2958 NE Glisan) As far as musical genres go, the blues are pretty goddamn dead. R&B keeps mutating along with technology, and there are still some weirdos abusing the near-lifeless corpse of jazz, but you can pretty much hang the blues up alongside ragtime and doo-wop as a musical genre whose evolution and relevance are both officially kaput. (Someone please notify Eric Clapton.) So it's a good thing Alvin Youngblood Hart doesn't really play blues, but blues-rock, and his humming, twanging guitar hits as many sweet spots as it does obvious touchstones. Hart helped soundtrack the bizarre Samuel L. Jackson flick Black Snake Moan a couple years back, but his loosely coiled, post-Hendrix fireworks would sound equally at home in any number of late '80s action flicks; producers wanting to remake Road House or Midnight Run, take note. NL

AVENGED SEVENFOLD, BUCKCHERRY, PAPA ROACH, SAVING ABEL

(Memorial Coliseum, 300 Winning Way) Tonight, Avenged Sevenfold roll into town, dragging the wounded corpse of hard rock across the defrosted ice rink floor at the Memorial Coliseum. With fangs cut on the Warped Tour and a weak vampire schtick bit (pun intended) straight from AFI, Sevenfold now rule the roost of modern hard rock radio at a time when that title means less than ever. Make fun of their AquaNet habit all you like, but bands like Poison and Mötley Crüe actually crossed over into the mainstream, as did Metallica and Pantera in the '90s, and even this decade saw the tail end of rap-rock's shameful ride upon the gilded flavor-saver of Fred Durst. But now? Being the biggest modern hard rock band is akin to winning second place at the Special Olympics. Joining Sevenfold are the lap dance-ruining rockers Buckcherry, the show-the-court-where-your-stepdad-touched-you emotional nü-metal of Papa Roach, and the limp rock stylings of some band called Saving Abel. Participation trophies for everyone! EAC

FRUIT BATS, SERA CAHOONE

(Mission Theater, 1624 NW Glisan) Sera Cahoone was the drummer for legendary Seattle band Carissa's Wierd, but most people probably heard her for the first time banging the skins on Band of Horses' first record, Everything All the Time. So it may be a surprise to hear either of her two solo albums, in which she sings and plucks acoustic guitar on a series of quiet country songs that are so subtle, so moving, and so damn good that it's impossible to believe she hasn't been a singer/songwriter since day one. Her self-titled debut could have been a one-shot deal, the kind of generous outpouring that comes from years of accumulating great songs, but her follow-up, and first for Sub Pop, Only as the Day Is Long, is just as good and just as urgent. Cahoone's foggy, melancholy voice guides a watertight craft of guitar, banjo, and unhurried drums, as a languid pedal steel sketches the long line of the horizon. It's a cliché to refer to something as timeless, but Cahoone's music certainly is; thank god she's doing it now while we have the chance to witness it firsthand. NL

SATURDAY 2/7

TALKDEMONIC, AH HOLLY FAM'LY, NURSES

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

BENDER '09: PIERCED ARROWS, MUDHONEY, HANK IV, RAPIDS & MORE

(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) See review.

MAGIC MARKER ANNIVERSARY: DEAR NORA, TULLYCRAFT, BOAT, GALACTIC HEROES

(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) See review

P.O.S., DOOMTREE, SIMS MICTLAN, LAZERBEAK, HAND OVER FIST, ONRY OZZBORN & THE GIGANTICS, DJ PLAIN OLE BILL

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) Though separated by time and changes in popular music, Prince and P.O.S. are by and large the same, and this sameness results from the environment that shaped them—the Twin Cities. (I'm taking this idea directly from something Cornel West once said about Prince.) Most metropolitan areas in America cannot successfully produce black artists that have one foot completely in a white art (punk in the case of P.O.S.) and the other foot in a black art (for P.O.S., it is rap). What is amazing about P.O.S.'s work—and this can also be said about Prince's coupling of funk and rock—is that there is no tension between the forms. Without a hint of gimmickry, rap and punk find a perfect meeting point in P.O.S. CHARLES MUDEDE

ADRIAN H & THE WOUNDS, XPLODING BOYS, DJ KENNY

(Lola's Room, 1332 W Burnside) Led by a crisp digital piano and a growl that splits the difference between Tom Waits and Cookie Monster, Adrian H and the Wounds' hand-wringing music is claustrophobically melodramatic. There's something cartoonishly gothic about Adrian's songs, like Nick Cave playing the role of Max Schreck in a Broadway musical directed by Tim Burton. It's the ideal soundtrack for reciting Poe and agonizing over which tattoo will piss off Daddy the most. Adrian H and the Wounds celebrate the release of their self-titled CD tonight, and lyrics like, "She likes cookies and cocaine, she likes blowjobs in the rain" indicate the mixture of sweet and skeevy contained therein. If that's not enough moping for you, the Xploding Boys perform Cure covers to make sure that eyeliner will be good and streaked. NL

MESHUGGAH, CYNIC, THE FACELESS

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) Last March, industrial artifacts Ministry claimed retirement and toured the world for one last fix. Their Portland goodbye so viscerally reanimated the electric, hang-on hyper-violence of the Wax Trax! bygone days that it hardly mattered frontman Al Jourgensen tossed the band's most familiar material to hired hands when it was certain he was, um, sick. Uncle Al, you are forgiven, especially considering the show's top-notch openers Meshuggah. These tech-savvy Swedes had then just released the now-acclaimed obZen, a crushing milestone in the act's scholarly history of unparalleled rhythmic rigor and polemic perversion of standard meter. Vocalist Jens Kidman and drummer Tomas Haake hypnotized the crowd with exaggerated nods and 4/4 beats, respectively, but hypnosis became nausea when the band's penchant for chaos crept into the mix like Agent Orange over South Vietnam. Now that they're headlining, the risk of exposure is even greater. MIKE MEYER

CASTANETS, TARA JANE O'NEIL, ETERNAL TAPESTRY, SOME WEIRD SIN

(The Hush, 14 NW 3rd) The first time I heard City of Refuge—the frightening new display of gloom courtesy of occasional Portlander Ray Raposa and his Castanets project—I was sick as a dog, bedridden under a blanket mountain and pretty confident that my self-diagnosis of Extreme Hanta SARS Influenza was completely accurate. With the line "I'm gonna run, I'm gonna run to, I'm gonna run to the city of refuge" (from "Refuge 1") burrowed into my skull, I felt absolutely helpless, pinned on my back and completely haunted by Raposa's voice. I got so bad that I started looking for a catchier song to push that one out of my skull. I failed. Now I shall forever associate the sensation of lying on my back and longing to feel the icy grip of death take me away with the bleak sonic landscape presented by Raposa. EAC

KAYLEE COLE, KARLI FAIRBANKS, ADAM SHEARER, WHITE HINTERLAND

(Backspace, 115 NW 5th) I have never been to Spokane, Washington, but I am fairly certain it exists even though I have never laid eyes on it—kind of like bestiality porn, or nitrogen. As further proof, two of Spokane's best singer/songwriters pass through town: Kaylee Cole's piano-based ballads are both modest and lush, designed to warm and comfort. Karli Fairbanks, meanwhile, errs on the side of devastation, with sparsely plucked folk arrangements, windswept melodies, and softly forlorn singing; her songs are gorgeously, momentarily perfect, crumbling right before your ears. In the Portland corner, Adam Shearer plays a solo set after the recent triumph of his Alialujah Choir side project and in anticipation of his band Weinland's upcoming third album. And White Hinterland's Casey Dienel is no stranger to singer/songwriter balladry, but her best material displays an adventuresome streak; the recent Luniculaire EP is an unsettled, fascinating stew of French lyrics and jagged-edge pop. NL

MIKE HERRERA, JON SNODGRASS, JOEY CAPE, AUSTIN LUCAS, MIKE D & THEE LOYAL BASTARDS

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Dude, where's my band? Punk singers go it alone tonight, the most intriguing of which is Jon Snodgrass of permanently underrated Colorado outfit Drag the River. While punk might be targeted for the kiddie demographic, Snodgrass is an old soul with a husky rasp that is more at home in a rumbling boxcar with old man Guthrie than pandering to the Warped Tour circuit. Armed with such a voice, nights like tonight are a perfect fit for Snodgrass, unlike, say, tourmate Joey Cape (of Lagwagon), who seems a bit adrift without a backing band controlling the tempo. Capping it all off is MxPx frontman Mike Herrera, whose unfortunate tattoos and freefalling career trajectory are reason enough to denounce his longtime Christian rock stylings. EAC

SUNDAY 2/8

BENDER '09: JACK OBLIVIAN & THE TEARJERKERS, BOX ELDERS, KING LOUIE, & MORE

(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) See review.

MONDAY 2/9

THE GOURDS, PATRICK SWEANY

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

LATE NIGHT CURLY , FUCK MOUNTAIN

(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) Fuck Mountain is as majestic as band names come. Just Googling the words "Fuck Mountain" feels euphoric, as if your previous thousands of searches were all leading up to this one moment, where you reach the very peak of potential of the English language and thrust your flag deep into its soil: My friend, you are home. Granted the band still has a long way to go in order to catch up to their moniker. But they're new, so we'll just cut them a break for their raw and battered punk howl—like the Hunches on a bad night—just as long as they promise to never change their name. Meanwhile, Late Night Curly temper goofiness (songs titles of "Mustachio" and "Crabsolutely") with a firm commitment to complicated numbers that combine the stop/start of math-rock with the occasional psychedelic freakouts. EAC

TUESDAY 2/10

YO! MAJESTY, NATALIE STEWART, BOY EATS DRUM MACHINE

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

31KNOTS, HOT VICTORY, GUIDANCE COUNSELOR

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) A European tour kickoff show? Shouldn't that happen in, you know, Europe? Well, to be fair, since the old country has been like a home away from home for the boys of 31Knots, bid them adieu as they prepare to embark on yet another tour across the pond. If you were unaware, the band's meticulous post-punk sound has earned them a devoted following pretty much everywhere—Japan, loves 'em too—except for America. Their latest, Worried Well, just might be their best, as lanky frontman Joe Haege's newfound possessed-carnival-barker persona loosens up the band's once rigid sound. You win this round, Europe. EAC

WEDNESDAY 2/11

JUANA MOLINA, LAURA GIBSON

(Lola's Room, 1332 W Burnside) Argentine singer/multi-instrumentalist Juana Molina is improving as she goes. The former TV comedian has transitioned into music-making with understated panache. Her primary style is a somber samba-tronica, augmented by her sweet, feathery vocals, which are at once shy and seductive. Molina's latest and greatest album, 2008's Un Día, finds her voice at its most expressive, roaring into a hearty Gal Costa-esque range at times. Similarly, Molina's rhythms pulse with greater oomph here, giving heft to her previously svelte compositions. She's mastered the art of sounding soothing without sounding dull; her intimate and intricate songs radiate pure, albeit subdued, joy. This tour is the first time Molina will have a full band backing her while playing in the States. DAVE SEGAL Also see My, What a Busy Week!