THURSDAY 9/16

JIMMIE VAUGHAN

(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Jimmie's younger brother, the late (helicopter crash, August '90) Stevie Ray is totally overrated. I don't wanna sound insensitive--because, really, I'm a damn walking Sensitivity Training handbook--but take a famous, albeit non-genius, artist, um, kill 'em off, and you've got a sudden icon on your hands. Stevie played soulless, technically perfect blues and stole Jimi Hendrix's acidhead Cherokee fashion. And with all due respect, anything Stevie did Jimmie could do better. Jimmie played the same Austin scene, toured in a well-known band (Fabulous Thunderbirds), and dropped albums just as solid as Stevie's. But he toils on while his late brother glows god-like in the canon. Life sucks. ADAM GNADE



MING & FS, DJ ANJALI AND THE INCREDIBLE KID
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) For the most part, DJs don't put on much of a show, and their fans are fine with that. After all, they came to shake their asses to dancefloor dynamite, not to stare at the stage. But the Bronx-born duo Ming & FS combines the best of both worlds, creating garage-band electricity with its live remixes. Mixing hiphop's fierce flows and savage scratches with the rhythmic urgency of drum 'n' bass, Ming & FS creates rap/rave hybrids that put the Blade II soundtrack (Ice Cube meets Paul Oakenfold!) to shame. ANDREW MILLER



RICK BAIN, MOUNTAIN CON
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) These days local boy Bain is sans his band The Genius Position, but his music is no less fogged in a '70s psychedelic haze. His new solo album Virtual Heavy Pet is both dreamy and rocking, his impressive voice both wizened and boyish. Bain's devout followers will not be disappointed. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS



SWITCHPIN, 2:00 HATE, ZERO STATE, point defiance
(Conan's, 3862 SE Hawthorne) Switchpin's eponymous website develops an elaborate genetic-laboratory theme, with a creepy computerized voice and Tron font. Like fellow sci-fi geeks Fear Factory, this Colorado-based quintet batters listeners with sharp metal, then applies occasional melodic salve to the gaping wounds. This fall, Switchpin will open for Slayer's Denver date, so be sure to shout "Slayer!" at random intervals during the set to ensure that these scrappy soldiers mature into a war ensemble before they face music's most malevolent fans. AM



THE HENTCHMEN, THE DT'S, THE HEARTLESS
(Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) Oh, them Hentchmen! Fucking thank GOD for 'em too, they're STILL crankin' out some frat rock, y'allÉ in the popular "'60s" styleÉ and boy do I LOVE 'em for it. See, I hate to be such a crybaby, but as the "scene's" taste has swung from somewhat strictly stuck in the past to "We wanna rockÉ dude." (insert hearty heavy metal "devil horn" fist here) there are only a few groups still workin' it out in the more "traditional" style. And for me, as one who still appreciates the former sounds of garage rock, it makes me excited to know some folks ain't forgotten how to go go the go-go. MIKE NIPPER



IQU, COBRA HIGH, PARANTHETICAL GIRLS, THE CLOGS, THE SIX PARTS SEVEN
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music Pg. 29



STATES RECORDS NIGHT: BOBBY BIRDMAN, LUCKY DRAGONS, YACHT, DJ HOT AIR BALLOON
(Machineworks, 1115 NW 14th) See Destination Fun Pg. 23



THE STRANGERS, DUCK DUCK GRAY DUCK, TRAUMA LE TRON, DJ SWEET JIMMY T
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) The Strangers have an accordionist and a fiddler, and play hill stomping music that will make you want to raise a barn in Southeast Portland. Trauma Le Tron described themselves in this very paper as "East German carnival surf music" and feature the talents of ex-Spooky Dance Banders Caroline Buchalter and Jason Sands. Duck Duck Gray Duck are named after the Minnesota version of Duck Duck Goose (seriously, how did any of us live before Google?). I was going to throw out the overused "eclectic" to describe this show, but then I came up with a better adjective: brilliant. If we're lucky, we'll all end up sitting in a circle and tagging each other's heads. CORTNEY HARDING



FRIDAY 9/17

JOURNEY
(Clark County Amphitheater, 17200 NE Delfel Rd, Ridgefield, WA) Journey is the grand summation of all things white. The Coldplay of their day, these dudes dropped records safe enough for your mom, safe enough for her mom, maybe even safe enough for her mom (and she was Amish!) "Don't Stop Believin'," "Open Arms"--their hits are over-produced, bombastic, and wimpy as lite-rock gets. But admit it, you've sung (maybe while driving alone?) at least one Journey song at some time, and you have LOVED IT. I don't mean ironically; you loved it proper, maybe even felt it. We're all guilty of dorking out to Journey--that's what makes us human. AG



I CAN LICK ANY SOB IN THE HOUSE, FIREBALLS OF FREEDOM, NEUTRAL BOY
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) SheeshÉ I Can Lick Any SOB in the House? I finally, recently, found the chance to get 'em in my ear holeÉ I'd seen that name, ICLASOBITH, and been like, "Shit, with such a long ass name they better be some kinda motherfuckers." Turns out, they areÉ a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll, as shown on their latest, Menace, which they are releasing tonight. Yeah, just like Donny and Marie. Conversely, not like Donny and Marie are the Fireballs Of FreedomÉ if you ain't seen 'em yetÉ well, you must not have left your house in the last, like, six years. They gots the heavy garage rock, they're holdovers from the '90s surge of MC5-derived "high energy" fist up and heads down action, and they like to fuck shit up! MN



TARA JANE O'NEIL, JACKIE-O-MOTHERFUCKER
(Disjecta, 116 NE Russell) As they put the finishing touches to their first album for the prestigious and British record label All Tomorrow's Parties, it's clear that JOMF truly belongs to the rest of the world now (as if, you know, touring with Sonic Youth and having cover stories in The Wire weren't proof enough). The thing is, Jackie-O's whirling dervish frenzy of prog-rock, psychedelia, and spontaneous noise just gets better and better, the group never sounding the same twice. Multi-instrumentalist and singer-songwriter Tara Jane O'Neil's just-released You Sound, Reflect (Touch & Go) is a most excellent album of moody avant-folk music. MIKE MCGONIGAL



TIC CODE, HALF ROUNDED BASTARD FILE, DEAD BY DAWN
(Jasmine Tree, 401 SW Harrison) Tic Code's mathy experimentalism is pretty damn addictive, and this is coming from a person who listened to Alice in Chains' Dirt every day for a year in high school. I'm not saying that this admission shows my super cool taste in music, but it does say when I like something, I really like it, and I've listened to Tic Code's five song sampler four times already today. Pleasantly, Tic Code lacks vocals, and uses a lot of choppy bass/guitar interplay, and drum banging in a way that's cathartic, but not over-dramatic. It's music that fans of the Fucking Champs would be into, a style that unfortunately seems to have dropped off as of late. KATIE SHIMER



ZZ TOP, ERIC SARDINAS
(Les Schwab Amphitheater, 344 SW Shevlin-Hixon Dr, Bend) In their heyday, ZZ Top provided a unique view of male masculinity to the children of the '80s. With a Fonz-like effortless cool, they got the chicks (simply by tossing them a pair of gold glittering "ZZ" car keys), drove the best rides (think hearse plus Dr. Dre ass-dropper), and made their guitars spin around on their chests via some kinda wild, bearded, mysterious rock 'n' roll magic. Their music is the kind of Bo Diddley-descended roadhouse rock that now lives only in Coors commercials, but that's not important. Unlike those liars at Sprite say, image is actually everything, so, like, screw your thirst. AG



PETEY PABLO
(Roseland) Petey Pablo isn't so great with album titles: His Diary of a Sinner follow-up Still Writing in My Diary is the worst-named sequel since I Still Know What You Did Last Summer. Actually, he's not so hot with lyrics, either. For the most part, this North Carolina native is all about stagnant sex talk and tired shout-along choruses. However, the crunk beats manufacture motion, which is all that matters at live rap shows where cavernous, carnivorous bass devours the vocal mix. And "Raise Up," which instructs listeners to remove their shirts and rotate the discarded garments like helicopter blades, leads to colorful crowd choreography. AM



SLEEPYTIME GORILLA MUSEUM, POINT LINE PLANE, MOE STAINO, SECRET puppets
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) Sleepytime Gorilla Museum may sound like a stupid name, until you listen to their music and realize how surprisingly accurate it is. Apish metal guitar collides with dark and dreamy vocals a la Nick Cave. Even if that mess doesn't sound like your cup of whiskey, the onstage theatrics of Sleepy's live shows could be. MB



SATURDAY 9/18

TWO FOOSBall tables AND A MICROPHONE 3
(3749 SE Madison) Bringing up summer's rear is perhaps the last great barbecue of the season. For the third year in a row, some of Southeast's cool kids are throwing a giant coed doubles foosball tournament, so come show your badassedness in that regard. Or if you suck at foosball, just come to the gigantic barbecue (Bring your own vittles and beverages!), accompanied by DJs and music from folks like psych singer songwriter Alan Singley, Tim Graham (of Dutch Flat fame), and guitarist Justin Ringle. MARJORIE SKINNER



PIGEON, NOGGIN, ELIZABETH WARD
(Disjecta, 116 NE Russell) Noggin is 30-something guitarist Eric Ostrowski and 60-something violinist Michael Griffen. Since leaving Portland a handful of years ago for Seattle, Ostrowski has moved toward playing violin, and when they both are hammering away at those things you've certainly never heard anything like it. You could say that they are to the violin as Borbetomagus is to the saxophone. They make one hell of an explosive improvised racket together and it's pretty sweet. You should totally go if when your friends say "Wouldn't it be a good idea if we saw Smegma tonight?" you tend to answer, "Fuck yes!" MM



ROCK FOR RIGHTS: A BENEFIT FOR THE NO ON 36 CAMPAIGN W/ASHLEIGH FLYNN, SNEAKIN' OUT, TRAGEDY JANE, TAMARA J BROWN, DKPDX, VIVIAN'S KEEPER
(Lola's, 1332 W Burnside) While none of these bands are going to create a stampede, the cause they're supporting should. I mean gays should be able to enter into loveless, sexless, financially draining marriages just like everyone else. Actually, I only say that because that's what I heard some woman say on the 10 o'clock news when she was interviewed about her thoughts on gay marriage, and I thought it was completely hilarious. Anyway, if you like those lip-synching, dancing drag kings, and Ashleigh Flynn's plucky guitar, and sultry sincerity, might as well see 'em and support a monumental cause. KS



BURNT SUGAR
(Machineworks, 1115 NW 14th) See Destination Fun Pg. 23



MIX MASTER MIKE & THE BEASTIE BOYS
(Memorial Coliseum, 1 Center Ct.)
CANCELLED! AGAIN!



31 KNOTS, ALARMIST, BEAU VON HINKLEY WINKLE
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) See My! What a Busy Week! Pg. 25



THE SKELETON COAST, LKN, THE NEW TRUST, HANALEI, HALF ROUNDED BASTARD FILE

(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) The three voices that twist and flip over the gripping, melodic songs of Skeleton Coast are a fine expression of heavy-hearted frenzy. They are aware of the obstacles surrounding them, and although they don't seem certain they will overcome, there's no question that they will try. Unfortunately the journey between anguish and defiance is exhausting, and sadly, this is Portland's last opportunity to stand and shiver and raise our voices with Skeleton Coast. ETHAN SWAN



ROCK AGAINST BUSH: ANTI-FLAG, STRIKE ANYWHERE, THE EPOXIES, mike park
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See Music Pg. 27



BLACK TAPE FOR A BLUE GIRL
(Sabala's, 4811 SE Hawthorne) See Music Pg. 27



COCO COBRA & THE KILLERS, BAD JU JU
(Shanghai Steakery, 16 NW Broadway) Yet another off the wall establishment has been embraced by Portland's irrepressible rock scene. Appropriated by the likes of Diamond Tuck (as in & the Privates), who's taken on booking duties, this is the latest joint to take in your favorite rock outfits. Tonight features the sexy snarls of Coco Cobra & The Killers, fronted by the sassy Viva Las Vegas. You don't get to see her dancing at the Magic Gardens much these days, so if you're missin' on her moves, this is where to catch them. Except this time she'll be wearing some clothes. MS



SUNDAY 9/19

MIKE WATT & THE SECOND MEN, THE JOGGERS, THE KINGDOM
(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) See My! What a Busy Week! Pg. 25



TRANSPLANT:FRANCE
(Machineworks, 1115 NW 14th) See Destination Fun Pg. 23



THE NEW TRUST, SCARLET SYMPHONY, GASOLINE PLEASE, HANALEI
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) Velvet Teen side project The New Trust isn't catchy in a tap your feet kinda way, they're more stompin' both heels (alternately, and to the beat, please) while sitting at your computer, clicking your mouse along with the short, punchy guitar riffs. And then you're up out of your seat, dancing like Courtney Cox in the "Dancing in the Dark" video, totally losing your composure because indie pop feels great when it's this good. Sweating, you fall back in your chair, close the Windows Media Player now blasting the band's EP, We Are Fast Moving Motherfuckers, get all self-conscious and surf over to Suicide Girls for a wank. AG



JUNE PANIC, ELEPHANT MICAH, tony moreno, beltline
(Twilight, 1420 SE Powell) June Panic is extremely prolific, having recently released his 11th album. Then again, he lives in North Dakota, so perhaps he should have to answer to a higher productivity standard than metropolitan musicians. Regardless, Panic, whose tunes veer from blanched R&B to lap-steel country to fizzling pop-rock, maintains a consistent quality level. Most of his records last longer than an hour, giving listeners sufficient time to meditate on his philosophical lyrics and adjust to his quivering vocals. His hooks, though, only take about 10 seconds to stick. AM



MONDAY 9/20

THE ONLY CHILDREN, gravity & henry
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) The Only Children's career has progressed like suburban sprawl in reverse, from high-tech sheen to frilly bohemia to rustic roots. Featuring three former members of The Anniversary, which started out with the '80s-influenced new-wave fun slide Designing a Nervous Breakdown before traveling even further back in time with the psychedelic pop of Your Majesty, The Only Children replace Adrienne Pope's carnival-calliope Moog tones with Heidi-Lynne Gluck's honky-tonk piano. The co-ed vocal arrangements remain, but the Children's lovelorn laments on the not-yet-released Change of Living recall the Stones at their starkest more than the baroque Beatles. AM



TUESDAY 9/21

E.S.T.
(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Jazz fans sure love to debate. The genre would be ripe for a Crossfire-style blab fest, except that the potential program's producers would be overwhelmed by interested participants and absolutely ignored by advertisers. E.S.T. can be a touchy topic for some of jazz's self-appointed protectors, who fill their spit-valves with bile whenever a trio with electronic undercurrents and tangible pop content earns accolades. Despite what its harshest critics claim, E.S.T. owes nothing to Kenny G's legacy. With its pristine piano melodies and bass lines that bubble with potential like crude oil seeping from the soil, this Swedish group is smooth in the best sense of the word. AM



WEDNESDAY 9/22

TODD RUNDGREN & THE LIARS

(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Dude, I freaked when I saw this bill. Glam rock sub-potentate Todd Rundgren backed by NY's The Liars! But alas, in a huge case of (innocent) false advertising, this is just Todd playing songs off his new record, Liars, a political pop album. But Todd is an odd bid for the nostalgia beat. Known more as a producer (New York Dolls, Meatloaf), here he is 30 years after his prime playing his own little-known music and a few covers. Still, homeboy is rock history and rock history must be given its props. Plus, he sang "Bang on the Drum all Day" and what toddler hasn't goofy-danced to that one? Radio Disney, represent! AG



JOHN VANDERSLICE, ROBBERS ON HIGH STREET, WILL JOHNSON

(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) See Music Pg. 29



THE ROOTS OF ORCHIS, TALKDEMONIC, THE ROSEBUDS, HEADLIGHTS
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The Roots of Orchis spread warm instrumental bliss like so many tubs of I Can't Believe it's Not Butter. Dubby bass funks below turntable squizzles, downbeat IDM-itry and Dark Side of the Moon brain melts. Their latest rec is called Crooked Ceilings and it's two CDs of sweet, stoned nod-outs--only not in a boring way like every other group that tries to front "druggy." Not bad for a band named after TESTICLES! AG