HUNGRY MOB, DJ WISE(Ohm) You have a good excuse to push back from the stuffing and giblets early: Hungry Mob are back! This long-running Portland crew are set to bring the hiphop headz back downtown with a Last Thursday residency at the Ohm. Mic Crenshaw and cohorts have been knee-deep in side projects, while putting the finishing touches on their upcoming LP, Three Days of Darkness. As always, the Mob are untouchable with their style of live-instrument, progressive hiphop; expect them to be hitting hard on all cylinders. DJ Wise gets things started with old and new joints of wisdom on the ones and twos. If you go remember the new rules: NO FIGHTING, NO GUNS, NO STUPIDITY. TED THIEMAN

JJ PARADISE PLAYERS CLUB, DIESTO, WADSWORTH, QUARRY TO THE WAR(Satyricon) Another week, another drummer in Diesto. This time it's ex-Totimoshi skinsman Johann Zamora, who offers below-the-belt rolling thunder and full arm extension barbarian crush. Maybe a quality import is the missing link they've needed all along. The fuzzed-out JJ Paradise Player's Club features former members of Unsane and Kiss It Goodbye, but ends up safely on the side of rock over noise. Fans of Drunk Horse and Rye Coalition will be pleasantly surprised and would do well to work off their tryptophan hangover by shaking their asses at the 'Con. Everyday is turkey day for Wadsworth, whose instrumental assault would have sent the pilgrims right back to England where they belong. NATHAN CARSON

FRIDAY 11/29


CAC, OLDOMINION(Tonic) CAC stands for "Cool As Cucumbers," but "Cold as Cucumbers" is more like it. These suburban honkies generate hiphop of an unbelievably forgettable nature. Every track off their self-titled LP sounds exactly the same, with weak-voiced emcees rapidly rattling off streams upon streams of pop culture references over the most generic beats. Granted, I don't think they're taking themselves seriously, but even then, references to things like The Bad News Bears, Scott Bakula, G.I. Joe, and The Simpsons' Side Show Bob were funny maybe five years ago. And the synthesized riffs running through everything are reminiscent of everything about the '80s that sucked. Indeed, CAC is a marriage of the worst of the '90s and the worst of the '80s, or: The Bare Naked Ladies meets Kid 'n' Play. That this joke of a group is on the same bill as the truly interesting and talented Oldominion proves that the apocalypse is indeed nigh. JUSTIN "WEST COAST" SANDERS

CANNIBAL CORPSE, MACABRE, CEPHALIC CARNAGE, DEEDS OF FLESH(Roseland) Cannibal Corpse's violent, incomprehensible hardcore death metal, with titles like "A Skull Full of Maggots," "Entrails Ripped from a Virgin's Cunt," and my personal favorite, "Hammer Smashed Face," was the lifeblood of my youth. My tastes were not necessarily limited to Cannibal Corpse, but moreso just this kind of music--music that motivates you to kick things, smoke cigarettes in your room, plot to smother your sister, run away, or perform a gruesome suicide. Nowadays, with the dog and the kids and the wine store, I have less time and patience for thrash-dancing and voodoo dolls, but Cannibal Corpse will always have a special place in my heart... especially when I want to rip someone's fucking throat out. KS


SATURDAY 11/30QUIVAH, MONEY & LOVIN, DJ WICKED(Berbati's) For some reason our city is blessed with a plethora of live-action, jazz-inflected, full-band hiphop ensembles. Who knows why, but I'm not complaining, especially when faced with such super groups as the ones on tonight's bill. Headlining is Quivah, a seven-piece, conscious hiphop group with great live beats, two tight emcees whose style is solid and flow comes easy, and keyboard/upright bass melodies that are catchy, but not typical or blingy. Money & Lovin continue on that tip but with a more slow groove, R&B/soul-jam feel brought about mostly by the smooth alto vocals of L'via Lee. Emcees Jazzu and Caswell lay their quick-flick spits over her awesome vocals and kinda funky, jazz instrumentation. Money & Lovin is deeeeeep, and you will not leave this show feeling anything but all glowy and nice. JULIANNE SHEPHERD


AVAIL, SUPERSUCKERS, HEY MERCEDES, SOLEA, THE CURSE(Crystal Ballroom) While I usually like to confront indierock debates by never ever listening to the band which is being debated (ahem, The Standard), the other morning I slipped on a coffee spill and accidentally fell onto a misplaced CD player, twisting my ankle, pressing play, and in short, listening to Hey Mercedes. I am quite familiar with their predecessor Braid, and in fact worship Braid, and have always felt that despite the existence of this new band, Braid's material is more than enough for me (plus I think their name is cutesy, and I heard they weren't that good). After all that, my opinion was much what I expected: Hey Mercedes does have the energetic elements of Braid, but plays with less fervor and heart... and in conclusion, just makes me want to listen to my old Braid tapes. KS

FOGHORN STRING BAND, YES YES BOYS(Alberta Street Public House) Well slap my cheeks and call me silly! Whack my warts and call me Willy! Blacken my balls and call me Bill-zilly, it's the Foghorn StringBand with flyin' fiddles, buzzin' banjos, and down-home crooners! It's sure to be a fine night of Old Time revival at the ol' Alberta Public House which, contrary to popular belief, is NOT Yuppie Central, but a welcoming meeting place for people from all walks of life! Woohah! J "WC" S

BENEFIT FOR AHMAD NELSON STARRING MADE FOR TV MOVIE, MENOMENA, THE SKELETON COAST(Blackbird) The new Dead Prez record, Turn off the Radio (which everyone should go buy RIGHT NOW), has a line cautioning us against the tyrannical nature of the people who are supposed to protect us: the police. Well, several, actually... but the one I'm thinking of goes, "The cops stopped you just 'cause you black/That's war!/Running through the system for your prints... Chillin' on your corner with your gang... Po-Po do the same damn thing... when they killed Amadou Diallo/That's war!" Related to this lyric is yet another installment in the ongoing saga of police's-word-vs.-word-of-young-black-man. This time, it's the "legal lynching" of Ahmad Nelson, a young African American accused of killing a cop. There is no evidence that he killed the cop--witnesses state to the contrary, and there is a surveillance camera tape of Nelson purchasing a beer at the exact time he is supposed to have murdered the cop--and yet he's still being charged. Sound familiar? Local bands Made for TV Movie, Menomena, and The Skeleton Coast play this show to benefit his legal defense fund. For more info on Nelson, visit JS

DEADBEAT HEARTS, THE EASTERN OREGON MAFIA, THE HOSPITALS, THE EX-GIRLFRIENDS(Satyricon) Having come out of nowhere (aka the dingy, under-appreciated Portland underground), The Hospitals have managed to garner major attention outside of our sweet, insular little hamlet, most notably in having been signed to L.A.'s super-chic In The Red Records. But unlike certain other successful Portland musicians, they're not too good for us anymore. Although they have a tiny membership (2), they make an awful lot of noise with their aggressive, ticked-off, rhythmic punk barrage. So feisty are their shows, in fact, that enthusiastic members of the audience have been known to actually end up getting carted off to the hospital. Welp, they're aptly named. Have fun, be safe, but don't claim they never warned you. MARJORIE SKINNER


WINTER HANDMADE BAZAAR STARRING THE INTIMA, THE DYING EMBER, PAMPAS(MessHall Gallery, 630 SE Third, opens at noon, music at 4 pm) First off, let me say that the Handmade Bazaar is magical, not only because it is the result of many creative people putting so much love into their functional crafts (and creating a modicum of a locally contained economy), but also because at the Handmade Bazaar, things just have a way of falling into place. You eat some yummy vegan soba noodle dish for lunch, you buy a pretty hand-bound book for someone you love, you watch some great music bursting with unassuming energy. Maybe you are even lucky enough to end up sitting next to the cutest boy in Portland. Either way, you should go to see The Intima, who breathe so much life into jutting punk, you'll end up dancing around like a frigging Cossack by the end of the day. And The Dying Ember, which is supposedly a country side project of Ryan "Roy Tinsel." And Pampas, who I know nothing about, but are surely gushing with twinkly magic. Because it's the Handmade Bazaar. (I realize this puts the HB in some martyr-like position, but really, it's SO great.) JS

CASIOTONE FOR THE PAINFULLY ALONE, CUSPIDOR, GHOST TO FALCO(Blackbird) This show consists of three of the sweetest, softiest boy musicians around; for a visual, imagine your lavendar heart bleeding a crystal tear... as it emits, it makes a sound like, "ding." Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, aka Owen Ashworth, can not only draw the hell out of a unicorn, but is rumored to be naming his forthcoming record Twinkle Echo, based on his favorite setting on the Casio. He plugs in the sweet melodies, turns up his amps, and makes the cutest, noisiest one-man heartbreak-slash-dance-party around. Cuspidor is like the pre-electronic version of that, but without the dance party, and he'll have to fight with Casiotone to see who makes the most references to cute animals. Ghost to Falco takes it down a notch, but you will still want to pinch his cheeks. JS

GLAMPORTLAND ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY: THE LEEDS, JACKIE, COCAINE UNICORN(Bush Gardens) Cocaine Unicorn sounds like the name of the trashiest New York Dolls ripoff ever. However, this Portland band offers well-crafted pop songs with thoughtful harmonies and hooks. Though the group shares the garage fashion sensibility of the other bands on this bill (bring your sunglasses), they don't suffer the stripped-down monotony of your ______s, ______s, or your _____ ______s, instead recalling Big Star on a Teenage Fanclub--or even Replacements--tip. None of the bands on this bill are afraid of handclaps. Oh yeah, and they will also probably rock your ass. ANNA BOND

NELLY, THE ST. LUNATICS(Rose Garden Arena) On the song "Ova Here," veteran hiphopper KRS-One raps: "Yo, Nelly! You ain't fo' real and you ain't universal/Your whole style sounds like a *NSYNC commercial.... Let these bitch-ass rappers know we in here/Go to the shows, and boo 'em offstage/Tell 'em KRS told you they at the end of they days/Let me tell you let's give hiphop a lift/And don't buy Nelly's album on June 25th/That'll send a message to all them sellouts/House fag rapper, your bottom done fell out." Again and again, in rap music and books (Eldridge Cleaver's Soul on Ice, for example), the figure of the "house fag" haunts the heterosexual black male psyche. Indeed, of all the things that could humiliate a black man (premature ejaculation, unemployment, someone stepping on a pair of brand-new shoes and not apologizing), being anally penetrated by a white man seems to be the worst. CHARLES MUDEDE

OREGON SYMPHONY "BEST OF THE BAROQUE"(Schnitzer) "Best of the Baroque," translates as really old music (think 1700s). The two most famous dudes from the Baroque are: 1. Handel, who despite writing the way-too famous Messiah, was about as religious as my atheist grandma and 2. the 18th Century version of gay-for-pay, and J.S. Bach, who had 22 kids (very NOT gay) and wrote more church music than you can comprehend. Anyway, the Oregon Symphony is playing some cool stuff by both of them (including the Hallelujah Chorus, oh goody) featuring a countertenor, which is sort of the guy equivalent of Mariah Carey (no, not the hoochie part). Hey, if this music is still being played 300 years after it was written, it probably doesn't suck. STEVEN LANKENAU



RICHARD BUCKNER, KATHLEEN EDWARDS(Meow Meow) Richard Buckner, a tattered and deeply troubled troubadour, has been blown by some mighty dark winds since his 1994 debut release, Bloomed. On his 1997 major-label offering, Devotion & Doubt, he used his peculiar, haunting voice to tell us what a human heart might sound like if a woman who just didn't give a damn anymore dragged it behind a pickup truck. Then in 2000, back on a smaller and undoubtedly more understanding label, he released The Hill, a chilling oddity in which Buckner set passages from the poet Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology to music. Who else but Buckner--with that incomparable, rattling, swooping instrument--could give such moving voice to the dead? But apparently even the spooks get lonely and long for some human warmth. His most recent CD, Impasse (made with only the backing of his wife, Penny Jo), is uncharacteristically luminous, layered and suffused with light. Mr. Despair even hauls out a keyboard, if you can believe that! It's a lovely and heartfelt work, and if we're lucky, he'll let loose with some of that happy hillbilly magic and show us that even a sad, old dog like Buckner can wag his tail every now and then. TAMARA PARIS

BECK, THE FLAMING LIPS(Schnitzer) See Music pg 18, MWBW pg 17


REALM 8'S BINGOBOT(Blackbird) It's just like real bingo, but it's closer to your house, the people are younger and more attractive (depending on your taste), there are better cocktails, and arty prizes--and with less people, there is a much better chance of winning. The choking cloud of cigarette smoke will be much the same as usual. Thank God. KS

OCTET NOIR(Mississippi Pizza, 8 pm) Unlike the millions of hilarious jazz dudes out there who like to call themselves "sextet" but only have two or "singers" and are all instrumental, Octet Noir is indeed an Octet, and indeed Noir. Translating movie and television themes ("obscure '60s European B pictures") through piano, vocals, clarinet, trumpet, sax, guitars, and drums, the Octet Noir rips their tunes at the seams and re-pieces it together in a suit of jazz, with undertones of rock, psych, or Latin rhythms. With the newly added vocalist/clarinetist/pianist Abigail Grush--an insanely talented lady whose nasally oompah soprano either annoys or enchants depending on who you are. Octet Noir doesn't play often, so check it out. JS

TEA FOR JULIE, LAND CAMERA MICRO ORCHESTRA(Tonic Lounge) Building that much-needed bridge between the shoegazers of yore and the post-rockers of... yore... Land Camera Micro Orchestra creates a mélange of Rhodes, guitars, samples, weird shit in the mic, and drums. Pretty atmosphere and upwardly mobile make-out music results. If you love a visceral rhythm and find British wall-of-sound bands too dated, but Tortoise too pretentious (or too hippie), the airy, moving sounds of Land Camera Micro Orchestra will hit the spot. JS


VINEGAR, BLUE STAR CREEPER, CHARM PARTICLES(Blackbird) The Charm Particles never paid their dues. They burst onto the Portland music scene and were met with instantaneous adoration, started booking shows, and flipped out a beautiful album seemingly like, lickity split. It's hard to really be venomously jealous, though, because they obviously work hard and are damned pleased to have the opportunity to entertain us all. The music is sweeping, earnest, and graceful, but ballsier than saccharine, especially when the guitars are rutted around like they're being electrocuted. The muted, warbling effects are why it's hard not to say something like "intergalactic." Fittingly, they are to be accompanied by bands called Vinegar and Blue Star Creeper, whose tunes are similarly melodious, if a bit more jangly, with very polished vocals. Get ready for a night of Professional Musicianship. MS

PAUL RUTHERFORD & TORSTEN MULLER(Disjecta) Few things on Earth are better than a German jazz bassist, and Torsten Muller is one of the best German jazz bassists around. Tonight he teams up with awesome trombonist Rutherford for a fine evening of free wheelin', soul healin', banana peelin' jazzliciousness. J "WC" S

New Releases Dec 3: 3, Dashboard Confessional*, Mark Dwinnell, Joey Eppard, Penny Lang, Mantler

*=in two years, will be dropped faster than Justin Timberlake's ankle