Beach House w/Skyler Skjelset; Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside

Following the release of Beach House's 2012 record, Bloom, singer/keyboardist Victoria Legrand reportedly suffered from writer's block and experienced doubts about the band's decision to tour with a live drummer, fearing it stripped their material of subtlety. The group made up for the inordinate gestation period by releasing two LPs in 2015, both of which are great. The first of the pair, Depression Cherry, has a title that mirrors the band's effortless mix of sweet and sad. The album features the group's most indelible single yet, "Space Song": a breezy pop grand slam that sounds like an outtake from the Xanadu soundtrack performed by Nico (no American rock band has sounded this European since Sparks). Follow-up Thank Your Lucky Stars is Depression Cherry's denser, more atmospheric counterpart, though it's every bit as rewarding, even if it lacks a single with as much staying power as "Space Song." 


Say Anything w/Mewithoutyou, Teen Suicide,

Museum Mouth; Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell

Earlier this month Parker Cannon, the lead singer for movingly average mall band the Story So Far, took it upon himself to dropkick a young girl who jumped on stage and attempted to take a selfie, much to the horror of pop-punk's more socially conscious contingent. But why is anyone surprised? Hasn't pop-punk always implicitly promoted misogyny? I can identify at least four people on my Facebook feed who have openly (and correctly) decried Cannon's behavior but still laud Blink-182's Enema of the State and Say Anything's ...Is a Real Boy as "punk masterpieces." Max Bemis, Say Anything's only constant member, is either a genius or an emotionally volatile megalomaniac, depending on whether you ask him or the 17 ex-members of his band. He's never physically assaulted anyone on stage, but it's not hard to imagine Say Anything crowd favorites like "Every Man Has a Molly"—the rallying cry of fedora-core dumpees everywhere—providing a young, impressionable Cannon with a blueprint for pop-punk douchebaggery. This is a Frankenstein monster that we created, guys. 


Melt-Banana w/Napalm Death, Melvins; Roseland,

8 NW 6th

Indescribable Japanese duo Melt-Banana's 2013 effort, Fetch, continues the group's long tradition of making discordant, technical, oddly catchy punk. It's perfect for pop masochists, and "just a bunch of noise" to pretty much everyone else—but what do they know?