AQUI, THE FORMLESS, DJ YETI (Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) Remember when everyone in New York was supposedly apeshit for Glass Candy? Aqui do. Fronted by an Ida No sound-alike going by the name Stephonik, Aqui lift the chanteuse and throw her waifish frame rag-doll style in front of a sludgy, rumbling prog-metal band. To keep up, she alternates between Yes'd out banshee and Siouxsie croon--and despite the band's very admirable attempts, that just can't seem to sway her away from the Shattered Theatre. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. ZAC PENNINGTON

ELECTRIC EEL SHOCK, LOPEZ, BLACKOUT RADIO, THE THIEVES (Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week! Pg 13

MINMAE, BLUE SKIES FOR BLACK HEARTS, THE COPS, GLADHOUSE (Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) I collect Minmae records like some kids do baseball cards. First one I got my mitts on was a mini-released split sevener with Gang Wizard (a raw cut of glory-noize with a big, fat, capital "Z") and since then, I've lined my collection with EPs, official full-lengths, a split 12", and more than a few records that only came out with, like, five copies. Latest Minmae-phile must-buys are the CD-R releases Soul/Drone and Feedback Seers. Both showcase pop and folk as played gritty and half stoned miniature space rock operas made by tiny moon men. So join me, dudes. Become a collector. Put 'em next to your limited-edition Locust Maxi Pads. It'll be great! ADAM GNADE

WALLS OF JERICHO, BURY YOUR DEAD, FULL BLOWN CHAOS, PREMONITIONS OF WAR (Loveland, 320 SE 2nd Ave) In Biblical times, seven priests blowing ram's-horn trumpets could reduce the city-encompassing walls of Jericho to rubble. The hardcore quartet Walls of Jericho is made of sturdier stuff. Using rapid-fire riffs that hit like a wrecking-ball hailstorm, this band can vaporize venues. Candace Kucsulain injects her confident vocals with venom, like a savage siren who's given up the angelic act and started gloating about her shipwrecked victims. On "All Hail the Dead," the title track from the group's latest release, Kucsulain unleashes an a cappella screech that could startle a corpse. ANDREW MILLER


TIM SWEENEY, CAT HARTWELL, PHIL-TWO, DJ BEYONDA, DJ NIGHTSCHOOL (Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) On the second tier of DFA's tight-wound hits factory, former intern-turned-artist Tim Sweeney brings Portland a stack of all your favorite records you've probably never heard of. Here to sweeten the ever-so-urbane pot are a couple more NYC imports: Cat Hartwell from Fannypack (the white girl who's legal) and Phil-Two of Fagtronics. ZP

STEVE EARLE AND THE DUKES, ALLISON MOORER (Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) WTF?! A reggae song about Condi Rice?! On Steve Earle's new CD, The Revolution Starts... Now, he falls into a pit of ill-advised aesthetical hell with his semi-sarcastic love song Condi Condi." (Cocaine does funny things to your brain even after you've long-since murdered the monkey.) But besides that, The Revolution is some of Earle's strongest work since he came back from his four-year vacation of drug mania and jailtime. It's mature, intelligent, election-year blooze and Iraq war protesting, a solid sequel to his post-9/11 paranoia jittersfest, Jerusalem. AG

CHARLIE HADEN QUARTET WEST (Portland Marriot, 1401 SW Naito Pkwy) Haden, bass player with Ornette Coleman, played at Lewis and Clark College a few years back, and stood behind a clear piece of plastic during the entire performance in order to isolate the sound of his bass. This choice exemplified the sterility of the performance, which was similar to watching five men wash their hands for an hour. It was the most boring live music performance I'd ever experienced. That said, they were among the best musicians I've seen in my life. It's just not what I had expected from Charlie Haden, a man best known for helping Ornette Coleman redefine jazz. He's back with a new album made of songs by a Mexican composer named Jose Sabre Marroquin. No word on whether he brought back the plastic. (Part of the Portland Jazz Festival--see for more info.) M. WILLIAM HELFRICH

SUBTLE, DEPT. OF ANGELS, SUCKAPUNCH (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See Music, Pg 17

WORMWOOD, FALL OF THE BASTARD, RITUAL WAR CREATION, ORDER OF THE VULTURE (Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) As someone who's been dragged to more doom and sludge metal shows than can I recall, it's hard to ignore the fact that for a genre so "extreme" it has as many self-imposed limitations as, say, bluegrass music. Often (unless you're a purist), it's difficult to tell one band from another--and the monster vocals and lurching minor key guitar gloom can make you feel like you've been trapped in a sauna for three hours. The Seattle band Wormwood seems to openly challenge their genre's restrictions, though--throwing piano, electronics, and a double electric bass attack into the mix. While the quintet can lumber through a slow dirge as well as anyone, the dark clouds will occasionally part for a shimmer of samples and percussion, or a sad, classically tinged piano passage. Granted, like any good horror movie, the audience knows the story is going to end in inevitable death and hellfire, but it's the brief moments of hope that make the final bloodbath that much more powerful. JOSH BLANCHARD

APE SHAPE, 6 FOOT SLOTH, MOUNT HELENS (Porky's, 835 N Lombard) A million-piece band with a decidedly political bent and a horn section? Sounds suspiciously like a ska band, doesn't it? And to be fair, Ape Shape does toss in a healthy (or perhaps unhealthy, depending on your stance) share of pseudo-ska-not-quite-dub sensibilities--but for the most part, their blend is still rather approachable. Tonight, the Shape celebrate the release of their saccharine-sweet new self-titled EP. ZP

GRAYSKUL, ABSTRACT RUDE, MR. DIBBS, NYQWIL, VURSATYL (Conan's, SE 39th & Hawthorne) See Music, Pg 15

LIARBIRD, THE STRANGERS, SCHICKY GNAROWITZ, THANKSIVING (Red & Black Caf, 2138 SE Division) Oly's DIY Americana mafia shake down Portland tonight, armed with enough bowed instruments between them to… well, to fill a string section. Which is the point, I guess. Anyway, first off you've got Liarbird, a syrupy, slow-waltzing folk quintet featuring former Intima-ns Nora Danielson and Themba Lewis (current consorts of Mirah and Tara Jane O'Neil). Next are the Strangers, whose considerably pluckier take on roots-y folk has improved substantially since the last time I saw them--or so evidences their recent, self-titled record. ZP

LOCUST, THE EX-MODELS, PLOT TO BLOW UP THE EIFFEL TOWER, UPSILON ACRUX (Loveland, 320 SE 2nd Ave) See My, What a Busy Week! Pg. 13

PAUL WESTERBERG AND HIS ONLY FRIENDS (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See Music, Pg 17


LOVELY, THE GAYS, MURDOCK, GOLDEN GODS (Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Lovely's Johnny Shitake's (5'2") favorite pastime involves sitting around and listing off all the great short lead singers in rock history. Though he smiles giddily at the mention of Marc Bolan, Mick Jagger, Prince, and Brian Johnson, he practically orgasms when the conversation reaches its climax with the inevitable utterance of Axl Rose's name. But tonight he needs not look any further than the headliner's on Lovely's bill to find a new name to add to his (ahem) short list of remarkable mini-rockers. Roy Tinsel, who fronts the ridiculously glamtastic Gays, is at once terrifying and gorgeous. A sad cowboy in drag, Tinsel's near maudlin performances and amazing baritone, coupled with the band's driving glammy hardcore, make for a truly heart-wrenching and amazing experience. KIP BERMAN

MIKEY DREAD AND THE DREAD AT THE CONTROLS BAND, ALTER ECHO (Goodfoot, 2845 SE Stark) In the '80s, the few radio stations in New York City that played hiphop only did so late at night. Something similar happened with reggae. Though popular on the streets of Kingston, it had almost no presence on the airwaves until 1977--modern reggae was born in the late '60s--on a show called Dread at the Controls, which ran from midnight to 6 am every night except Monday. Mikey Dread was the dread at the controls, and he filled his popular show with bizarre jingles and sound effects. In the long and inordinately rich history of Jamaican popular music, toaster, singer, and DJ Mikey Dread's place is almost at the center. CHARLES MUDEDE

PAPA ROACH, SKINDRED, THE F-UPS (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) The fact that I had to Google Papa Roach to remember which forgettable radio hit they dropped back in 2000 (it was that "Last Resort" song, for the record) probably doesn't bode well for the band's career at present--but then again, neither does the fact that they play shit that was tired before Fred Durst did it all for the nookie. ZP

HOT HOT HEAT, LOUIS XIV (Loveland, 320 SE 2nd Ave) New San Diego band Louis XIV sound like they stepped right out of a 1966 suburban garage and into a studio with two-inch Ampex tape. On their potential hit single, "Finding Out True Love Is Blind," and "Louis XIV," Jason Hill sings like Iggy Pop's cleaner-cut, tighter-trousered son while the band churns out tight, pre-coital-tension rock destined for some 21st-Ventury counterpart to the Nuggets boxed set. Over the course of the rest of the band's Illegal Tender EP (Pineapple Recording Group), Louis XIV touch upon owery psych rock, the 987th rewrite of "I'm a Man," fey Anglo pop, and an oddly baroque form of blues. Can an NME cover story be far behind? DAVE SEGAL

POLYSICS, THE PUNK GROUP, PORTLAND GENERAL ELECTRO (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Devo spores wash up on new foreign shores daily, and in Japanese punks Polysics, the influence of that seminal group's Technicolor synth pop is readily accessible. Polysics' inane lyrics pogo around squirrelly video-game samples, erupting synth riffs, and punk-ready guitar work, but the band go even further in their Devo-devotion, reportedly donning matching white jumpsuits onstage. JENNIFER MAERZ

ROGUE WAVE, FILM SCHOOL (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) On the Rogue Wave website, singer/guitarist Zach Rogue lists the records he listened to obsessively at 15 as follows: R.E.M.'s Life's Rich Pageant, Randy Newman's Sail Away, and the first album by Cypress Hill. I'd like to say that combined that's what his band sounds like, but they are on Sub Pop. Aside from wondering how a 15-year-old living in the suburbs listening to both Randy Newman and Cypress Hill escaped freshman year without getting his ass served to him daily, this has nothing to do with their year-old debut Out Of The Shadows. Personally, I would have lied and said I was listening to Spacemen 3; either that or the Shins. Because that's what everyone says they sound like. Yeah, there were no Shins when either of us were 15. But you get the point. TREVOR KELLEY

YELLOW SWANS, CHUCK BETTIS CO (Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) See My, What a Busy Week! Pg 13

BETTIE SERVEERT, CLIMBER (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) Perhaps capitalizing on the now-fading Nordic Pop-Rock Invasion of the Early '00s (see INC, The Hives, Snow Patrol), Amsterdam-based Bettie Serveert put out their creamiest, slickest record since '92's college baby debut, Palomine, last year. Log 22 may've been a revisitation of what put those dudes on the map back when we were blasting that dog & the Spinanes, but this year's Attagirl (on Minty Fresh, of all places!) is all sultry dance fever and awesome muddy production. Carol van Dyk still gazes at these pop songs with wistful puppy-dog eyes, but it's the attacking moments like "Hands Off" that will be super-fun to watch live. JOAN HILLER

ENTOMBED, PRO-PAIN, CROWBAR, MIGHTY NIMBUS, HYPERTHERMIA (Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Dedicating a record to a comic-book character is usually a geek's gambit, but there's nothing nerdy about Entombed's Wolverine Blues, which shreds like the titular mutant's Adamantium claws. In addition to becoming the first Marvel-approved metal masterpiece, this 1996 effort refined the Swedish group's "death-and-roll" sound, which combines rock's blues-influenced grooves with thrash's violent velocity. Proving it can bring headbanger credibility to any art form, Entombed recently released the concert album Unreal Estate, which documents the night it shared an opera house stage with dozens of ballerinas. AM

THE MOLE, TYCONICHI, ANCIENT MITH, TANG LI WHEEBS, ERIK B, CAC, DJ SLIP (Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) Oakland-based Motion Records is fostering a hiphop clique (the Mole, American Mith, Tang Li Wheebs, Tyconichi) whose next-school vibe may take a while for heads to grasp. Oddly undulating flows that owe more to Frank Zappa and Primus' Les Claypool than Jay-Z or Method Man, eccentric music samples heretofore the domain of Daedelus, and densely detailed production values place Motion in a fascinating space between Def Jux and anticon's rosters--Motion might just be hiphop's answer to the Firesign Theatre. DS

SILVER SUNSHINE, AQUI, A FIR-JU WELL, XILA (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Lots of folks have dubbed recent '90's-influenced NOISE rock groups "psychedelic." Turns out, "noise" ain't always psychedelic it's just… uh, noise. I mean, just because you own an oscillator don't make you "Hawkwind." That said, Silver Sunshine are, in fact, a contemporary psychedelic band, that SOUND like a psychedelic band oughta. They do it properly with NO concessions to "classic" sludge/cock-rock riffing, indie sounds/songwriting, or '80s revival power pop/garage. Their sound is strictly period with a songwriting affection for 1968-ish Anglo-sike's sweet, breathy, sometimes-phased harmonies draped over driving pop, like the Move, with Tomorrow-like powerful duel guitar melodies, threading throughout. Oh YEAH, now THAT is psychedelic. And be careful, if you get too close, this Sunshine might burn. MIKE NIPPER

SUGARCULT, HAWTHORNE HEIGHTS, ANBERLIN, HOPESFALL, PLAIN WHITE T'S (Loveland, 320 SE 2nd Ave) This is an actual Hawthorne Heights lyric: "I'll take this ink from my arms and write your name in the sky/ Please don't use my letters to start your fires this time." Tattoos! Writing your girlfriend's name in the sky! Fire! Draw your own conclusions! Sugarcult are a modern rock band who dress better than anybody on the Warped Tour that isn't a groupie, and they have the closest relation to actual fame of anyone here. Their radio hits were pretty great last year, but not so great that you'll be able to stand the eight hours between doors and their final encore. So it's more of the same. TK

THE WEIRDOS, DUANE PETERS GUNFIGHT, ANGEL CITY OUTCASTS (Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy Blvd) Nearly three decades after helping spawn L.A.'s late-'70s punk scene (with bands like the Germs and the Screamers), performance-art punks the Weirdos are still hitting the road, detonating their "We Got the Neutron Bomb" for future generations. They're touring with Duane Peters Gunght, featuring the pro skater/U.S. Bombs frontman and head of Disaster Records--the label that's putting out the Hollowpoints' fine new collection of punk rock. JENNIFER MAERZ