BLONDE REDHEAD, MIDNIGHT MOVIES
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 13.
ROCKY VOTOLATO, DRAG THE RIVER, STREET TO NOWHERE, MIKE D & THEE LOYAL BASTARDS
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 13.
EATS TAPES, LUCKY DRAGONS, THE DODOS, POWDERED WIGS, DJ BJ
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) It's almost impossible not to be charmed by Eats Tapes' latest pun-friendly album title, Dos Mutantes. It is fitting, too, since these two San Franciscan knob twiddlers take techno into almost psychedelic regions, layering feedback noise over danceable, driving rhythms. And please, do not be scared of the word "techno." In this case, it just means "guaranteed to make you shake your ass uncontrollably for an hour and a half while simultaneously giving you a noise headache," which, for my money, sounds like a pretty great way to spend a Thursday night. ROB SIMONSEN
THE EPOXIES, OPERATION S, THE PUNK GROUP
(Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy) Epoxies shows are like national holidays here in town. In preparation for the new-wave throttling you are about to endure, there should be no work today. Banks should be closed, school is out, and there damn well better be no mail delivery. To fully experience this fantastic punk time warp, you need to stay focused all day long. While you're at it, call in sick tomorrow. Come 9 am—ears ringing, your pillow smelling like stale Aquanet hairspray and cigarettes—the last thing you will want to do is get out of bed. EZRA ACE CARAEFF
ROSIE THOMAS, DENISON WITMER, SHEILA SAPUTO, SUPER XX MAN
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) The new Rosie Thomas disc These Friends of Mine sings to those times when your world breaks, and she'll definitely give you that extra little push toward getting that good cry. Thomas channels Joni Mitchell enough that even that obvious comparison seems notable, plus there's a touch of Natalie Merchant in there as well. Gorgeous. JIM WITHINGTON
2 LIVE CREW, CHEF BOY-R-BANGERZ, QUIZ, FUNKSHOP DJS
(Outlaws, 722 E Burnside) Admit it. Listening to 2 Live Crew has always made you want to ride a mechanical bull in front of a bunch of drunken cowboys. Thank god for that, since Luke and Co. are playing tonight at Western-themed Outlaws. Sure, the Crew may have just been gangsta rap's (original) Insane Clown Posse, writing juvenile rhymes, ripping off other artists, and inspiring legions of misdirected suburban youths to embrace misogyny. But hey, controversy sells, right? Keep those foul words coming—seriously, that shtick will never get old. RS
XIU XIU, SUNSET RUBDOWN, KATIE EASTBURN
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 13 and Music, pg. 15.
(Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 13.
CLEVELAND STEAMERS, ROCKET ONE, THE ONE AND ONLY, HUNGRY MOB
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) With one track, Cleveland Steamers have turned me into a fan for life. "The Decider" is on their new CD Treasure Chest, and features hilariously painful clips of speeches from George W. Bush. The effect is perfect—Gen.Erik and the ubiquitous Mic Crenshaw turn Bush into an unwitting emcee in their game, making me laugh and cry all at the same time. Smart, political hiphop from an act named after a classic, stomach-churning sex act? Only in Portland. It makes me happy to live here. SCOTT MOORE
CACOPHONY: PULSE EMITTER, MONSTURO, VIEW, BRIZBOMB, CO SINE, THE SUNKEN
(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) My favorite part of Pulse Emitter's website isn't the section with all the strained press descriptions of Daryl Groetsch's one-man noise band, or the otherworldly list of self-fashioned electro-gadgets Groetsch uses to achieve the empty, vacant, drone Pulse Emitter is known for. No, in my opinion, the best part of Pulse Emitter's website is the "degrees" section, where Groetsch's Bachelor's of Music Composition sits listed right next to his Associate of Applied Science and computer stuff from ITT Tech. I do believe it's the first time I've ever seen someone's educational background listed on their band's website, and furthermore it begs the question—why isn't there a dude making crazy synthesizers and laying down noise drone in ITT Tech's commercials? How cool would that be? MATT DRISCOLL
RICHMOND FONTAINE, GRAND CHAMPEEN, GLOSSARY
(Ash Street Saloon, 225 SW Ash) I don't get it. While I scold the British music press for their ridiculous praise of sub-par buzz bands ("The Horrors are the next Gay Dad, which are the new Birdland, which were better than the Beatles!"), I need to give them some credit for recognizing the brilliance of Richmond Fontaine. Severely underrated, Willy Vlautin's country-ish outfit are rockstars overseas, yet commonly ignored here in town. Too smart for the heavy-drinking country crowd and too rambling for the cross-armed hipster tastemakers, Vlautin's tales of horseracing, love, and woe go mostly unnoticed here. Come on Portland, we can do better. EAC
MC LARS, MC FRONTALOT, OPTIMUS RHYME, HELLO LOBSTER
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) When you were a kid, did you memorize Young MC's "Fastest Rhyme?" Do you know all the reasons why "Parents Just Don't Understand?" Do you know what to do when "you are likely to be eaten by a Grue?" Then you're the target audience when MC Frontalot brings his hyper-intelligent raps about monkeys, bizarro genius babies, and, yes, even Grues, to town. You'll break your face laughing when Front gives you a detailed list of why he hates your blog ("You have a dog, and you feed it/You post about it, I get to read it") and by the time his intricate verses about computer security own you, you'll realize Front's a true wordplay genius. JW
PEEPING TOM, PIGEON JOHN
The world would be a much, much better place had these bands never existed: Faith No More, Mr. Bungle, Tomahawk, Fantomas, and Peeping Tom. Notice a theme? Chances are, you probably either 100 percent agree with that list or 100 percent disagree—that's how much of a polarizing artist Mike Patton is. Like all things pretentious, it's impossible to argue the validity of Mike Patton's work: It's either something you "get" or not, and in this case I'm proud to say I have no clue as to why people continue to think this man is a genius. RS
FIR FEST: DIRTY MARTINI, LIV WARFIELD, CLAMPITT GADDIS & BUCK (5 PM EARLY SHOW)
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 13.
PAUL GREEN'S SCHOOL OF ROCK PERFORM AC/DC
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) The always-inspiring Paul Green's School of Rock concerts give kids the chance to shred onstage like the pint-sized rockers they are. The highlight of tonight's AC/DC performance will be when one kiddie does his best Bon Scott impression and drinks himself right onto the Highway to Hell, only to be quickly replaced by a poodled-haired replacement with a soft spot for overalls and being shook all night long. Wait. I thought you weren't supposed to shake children? EAC
GREEN MILK FROM THE PLANET ORANGE, GET HUSTLE
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Lucky for Portland, Tokyo's little princes of prog have made Puddletown their second home. Dead K, T, and Ace jam, shred, and mangle their instruments—all while seated. I've never seen such a high-energy set with less jumping, kicking, and cavorting. But GMFTPO leave nothing to be desired, except perhaps longer songs and more stops in Portland. Local freakout trio Get Hustle make a rare appearance and continue to bewilder audiences by playing to their own three separate muses. Is it music? Is it art? Whatever it is, it is uncompromising and dangerous and best not completely understood. NATHAN CARSON
MOONSHINE HANGOVER, HILLSTOMP, JON ITKIN & SOME LIKE-MINDED SOULS
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) At their finest moments, Moonshine Hangover sound like the whispered final prayers of an overturned semi driver, jack-knifed on some star-spangled American interstate. There is a very American feel to their post-roots rock, but it has enough authentic darkness and desperation within to make it rise far above the Mellencamp "Ameri-gasm" Chevy truck anthems. Resplandor, the CD for which tonight is the release party, is made up of road-weary tales of bad luck, redemption, rough women, and the sweet seduction of the bottle. Ain't nothing more American than that. EAC
MUTE MATH, CINEMATICS, SOMEONE STILL LOVES YOU BORIS YELTSIN
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Here's what I love about Springfield, Missouri band Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, in no particular order: the name. That drummer/songwriter Philip Dickey appreciates Nirvana so much that he gets nervous for shows that take place in a venue where Kurt Cobain once played. That there's no mistaking the band's penchant for finding the hooks in the haystacks and making them as cuddly as can be, and that the band writes songs that defy containment and instead graft themselves onto the bodies of the spring winds that contain the forgotten scents of backyard grills burning charcoal and burgers and innocence and they just float away. SEAN MOELLER
AIR, KATE HAVNEVIK
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See Music, pg. 17.
RODRIGO Y GABRIELA
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Everybody in the world loves well-executed Latin rhythms on the Spanish guitar. They're almost physically impossible not to love, when done well. Similarly, everybody in the world loves "Stairway to Heaven," even if it is the least cool song that anybody over the age of 13 could love. But no matter who you are, when "Stairway" catches you alone in a private moment, all bets are off. Rodrigo y Gabriela are the perfect (and literal) marriage of these two phenomena. You'll love it. CHAS BOWIE
TRANS AM, ZOMBI, BLACK TAJ
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) To say that Trans Am's latest, Sex Change, is a return to form, sort of implies that the band has changed over the years. Granted there has been some evolution—and de-evolution—in the band's 17-year(!) history, but Trans Am is the same old beast, and Sex Change is the culmination of all those years of bringing crisp synth-lines to the masses. It also just occurred to me that the band's name just might not age as well as we once thought. If you're a teenager now, have you ever even seen a Trans Am in person? Will future generations get in on the ironic car band name thing as well? If so, I welcome the year 2017's most popular band: PT Cruiser. EAC
RODRIGO Y GABRIELA, KRYSTLE WARREN
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) See Sunday's Up & Coming.
DJ SHADOW, LIFESAVAS
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 13 and Music, pg. 15.
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) See Music, pg. 18.
THE SLIP, HOLY FUCK
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Holy Fuck! It's an exclamation of pure amazement and surprise, and also, perhaps, the most appropriate band name I've heard in some time. Holy Fuck are from Canada and their shtick is both simple and brilliant. They're about emulating currently popular electronic music, but doing it without all those current gadgets and cheating techniques—laptops, programmed backing tracks, etc. Instead, Holy Fuck packs an arsenal of instruments and non-instruments—guitar pedals, toy keyboards, duct tape, anything else laying around the house—and straight up goes to town, leaving your mouth gaping wide, and only two words on your mind. "Holy Fuck." MD
KLAXONS, FIST FITE
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) See Music, pg. 18.
THE BOOKS, TODD REYNOLDS
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 13.
THE JUNIOR BOYS, SAN SERAC, THE LYMBYC SYSTYM
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) More than Justin, more than Barry White, hell, even more than Prince, Junior Boys are becoming one adjective, and one adjective alone: sexy. Negating rock fans' famous argument that "electronic music doesn't have any soul," the Boys are the best of what the future has to offer—smooth, R&B-influenced vocals with icy, pristinely sleek bass and synth lines. And, they manage to keep all of their pop sensibilities, dishing out melodies like it's nobody's business. Eliminating filler and flash, these songs are subtle, simple, and remarkably smart. You'll dance, you'll swoon, and you'll—well, probably swoon some more—which for two white, not-that-attractive Canadians, is quite an impressive feat. RS
AIR WAVES, MILL RACE, ANDY COMBS & THE MOTH
(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) Most new acts with a footing in the folk tradition tend to embrace the serene and the fragile, but one gets the feeling that Brooklyn's quirky Air Waves broke away from the pack long ago. Singer/guitar player Nicole Schneit tears through her stilted, acoustic punk like a bull in the china shop—more than a languid fairy on a lily pad—and that suits me just fine. Proudly hailing from our state capital, Mill Race's brand of prog-laced robo-country is idiosyncratic to say the least, as they prod at all manners of genres with reckless abandon. Oh, iconoclasts, you gotta love 'em! JOSH BLANCHARD
OLD HAUNTS, LETI ANGEL, HEY LOVER
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Tobi and Maggie Vail know a thing or two about punk sisterhood. In addition to working behind the scenes at grrrl-supportive label Kill Rock Stars, the real-life sisters have logged time in a slew of beloved bands, including Bikini Kill, the Bangs, the Frumpies, and Gene Defcon, and are now adding Leti Angel and the Old Haunts to the list. With Tobi on board in her first full-time drumming gig since Bikini Kill, the Old Haunts will be out and about on tour all this spring before returning in late May to record their third LP. Leti Angel, with Maggie on bass and vocals, play jerky, jammy spazz-rock that wouldn't sound out of place on a Deerhoof record but also complements the Old Haunts' bluesy guitar lines and Craig Extine's soulful howls. Catch them together while you can—sister acts don't come any fiercer. LIZZIE EHRENHALT
YOUNG BUCK, BOOM BAP PROJECT, MANIAC LOK, LIVIO, KENNY MACK, DJ CHILL
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Major label rap shows can be a dicey affair. Take the Devin the Dude show I was lucky enough to attend where the sleepy-eyed rapper had (allegedly) smoked a little too much sticky-icky and performed only six songs—two of them twice. A Roots show with no Black Thought and no ?uest Love—just a rag-tag collection of scrappy beatboxers and Rahzel—still cost me 15 bones. I can't finger exactly what it is about the switch from the independent grind to the pampered tour buses, but dedicated performers become mindless automatons, unable to perform with heart or soul. Keep this in mind if you're thinking about attending the Young Buck show. While the down-South emcee has a little more integrity than most new faces on the major label circuit, will the stench of live mediocrity continue with him? Let's hope not. NOAH SANDERS
ELECTRIC SIX, TEST YOUR REFLEX, NIGHT KILLS THE DAY
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) At some point, you need to hear, experience, and LIVE Electric Six's song, "Dance Commander," because it's brilliant and amazing and hilarious and spot-on, like Stephen Colbert and The Onion had a bastard child that manifested as a two-and-a-half-minute rock blast. The problem? This one-trick pony hasn't got much more to offer. It's really too bad they take the easy, low road, because as "Dance Commander" told us, they COULD be AWESOME, but they missed their chance. JW