DJ DALUA (Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Rio de Janeiro native DJ Marcelinho DaLua of the trio BossaCucaNova imbues the suavest music in the world (Brazilian) with subtle electronic elements, for which he's earned many accolades, prizes, and sales for the group's three albums. How sour and dour are those not enchanted with the tenderly melodic, shufe-rhythmed charms of bossa nova and samba? Very sour and dour, indeed. Behind the Technics, DaLua raises the stakes with a blend of drum 'n' bass, reggae/dub, and Brazilian styles. DAVE SEGAL

DURAN DURAN (Rose Garden, 1 Winning Way) So all of a sudden Duran Duran matter and they're touring and admit it, you care. Which is even weirder than them being seen as important, or the fact that the best songs that they are going to play tonight are probably older than Simon LeBon's girlfriend. I'm not even sure of the name of the new album they put out, but I'm told people bought it--which is fucking mind-blowing (and at least somewhat validated by the fact they're playing again in arenas). But whatever, you're old. Tell the kids what it's like to have perspective and then flip the white collar of your blazer up and face the pain. TREVOR KELLEY

GUITAR WOLF, FIREBALLS OF FREEDOM, TYPHOON KILLER (Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) A Guitar Wolf show is cause for a goddamned riot in the streets. The kings of no-, scuzzy garage filth have successfully taken back the night and made it their own so many times, it's a wonder we're not walking around in broad daylight all the livelong day. Does it even matter what the group's most recent album, Rock n' Roll Etiquette, sounds like? Here's a clue, anyway: it pummels, it destroys, it rebuilds, it gives birth, and it makes a family there. It's completely self-contained. It's also the filthiest thing since Chuck Berry started hanging out in the ladies' room with a camera. It's primordial punk whose closest compatriots are not up on stage, but buried in the goo-goo muck down in the La Brea tar pits. Just go already. JON PRUETT

KINGS OF CONVENIENCE, FEIST (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) Norwegian duo Kings of Convenience are touring with Canadian singer/songwriter Leslie Feist. She was Peaches' roommate, hung out with Gonzales and Louis Austen, and is part of the ongoing collaboration that is Broken Social Scene. Her smoky, cabaret style fits in perfectly with tonight's headliners. I'm so happy, I may cry. TERRY MILLER


THE SPITS, THE SLIP ITS, THE PUNK GROUP (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Even if you're not a fan of the Spits' superfun gabba-gabba-style street pogo punk steez, you'll love 'em after visiting and viewing the band's hilarious '04 U.S. tour video. The video, along with the random prank call audio snippets that pepper the Spits' 2003 s/t release on Dirtnap, incorrectly finger the band as jokesters when they're super dead serious about one thing: tight-ass classic p.rock hits. They may play the beer-swilling, party-crashing, Ferrari testosterosa vibe to the hilt, but something more intelligent and poppy lurks underneath all that grit on hits like "No Place To Live" (they're talking about the U.S.! But that's as political as they get!) More importantly, they go great with a tall, cool Budweiser. JOAN HILLER


THE BLOW, ANNA OXYGEN, BOBBY BIRDMAN, YACHT, PASH (Reed College Chapel, 3203 SE Woodstock) Lift your blinking laptops like antennas to heaven. The Portland chapter of the extended K Records Mafia converge on the Chapel at Reed College for a celebration of digital spirituality--one lap-pop song at a time. Both the Blow and Bobby Birdman have been hard at work on new materials of late--a new full-length (tentatively titled The Touch Me Feeling) and an EP (Giraffes and Jackals, to be released on Not Not Fun Records), respectively--and will no doubt be debuting some new materials. Also of note: tonight's show welcomes recent Portland imports Anna Oxygen and Pash. Be sure to swing by and say hello. ZAC PENNINGTON

BOB DYLAN, MERLE HAGGARD, AMOS LEE (Chiles Center, 5000 N Willamette) I have a ticket to this show, and don't you dare tell me Bob Dylan is a fan-hating washout who plays shows like the cotton-mouthed old man that he is. He's a legend, by golly, his best albums are the few elements of my collection I return to time and time again, and I'm gonna see him play before he croaks god damnit. That's all there is to it. And you know what? Years from now, I won't even remember the $55 ($63 when you toss in evil, evil Ticketmaster's surcharge) I blew on this show, but I will have that glorious image of an embittered grandpa sitting on his stool, playing the uber-saturated hits he reviles to a room full of fans he views as howling monkeys. Money comes and goes, but after this weekend, I'll always have Bob. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

THE VELVET TEEN, CROSSTIDE, THE NEW TRUST (Loveland, 320 SE 2nd Ave) The Velvet Teen and the New Trust are two Bay Area bands who make beautiful, melodic, powerful rock music with the kind of vocals that are always being described by the word "soaring." That word usually means it's a dude with strong projection who can comfortably sing in a high range, but in this case, it actually means that the vocal melodies fucking soar. So there's that. SEAN NELSON

MATTHEW SHAW, DANIEL G HARMANN, TURN AROUND (Red and Black, 2138 SE Division) I can't really understand why people keep saying Matthew Shaw's fantastic record reminds them of Bright Eyes. Can't they hear how good it is? Both acts make inward-looking pop songs, but where Bright Eyes plays the emotions to the back of the theater, Shaw honors the subject matter by keeping his tone chill (instead of shrill). SEAN NELSON

PORTLAND GENERAL ELECTRO CD RELEASE, SNUGGLE UPS, STRENGTH, TIGER STRIPES (Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Lately, it seems there's been countless x-high school dorks that have put the wedgied, virginal past behind them thanks to the powers of the dance band. The onslaught of brainless, melodic, bubblegum disco dance groups (such as United States of Electronica and Junior Senior) has put a smile back on the face of hipsterdom. I once had a more intelligent friend than I say "you don't need to be schooled on the dance floor" and he's totally right. Strength understands this and has proven it with two EPs since 2003 featuring smooth synths against bouncing beats and vocals that don't totally suck nor hide behind a vocoder. Strength is emblematic of this phenomenon that has turned many a show I've attended in recent months into sweaty piles of people in hot pink, fueled with the themes of ephemeral love and the fact that grinding has become okay again. JENNA ROADMAN


ARMOR FOR SLEEP, RECOVER, SAY ANYTHING, CHASE PAGAN (Solid State, 527 SE Pine) If you can't appreciate Say Anything conceptually, you will probably spend your mid-20s earning a comfortable living in real estate. (That's awesome, Chad!) But for those of us who spent the last few years in either too many bars or at too many shows, it was probably amazing that a 19-year-old basket case from a gated community was able to dissect your vain flaws and your scene-point sport fucks so perfectly. His band can interchangeably sound like both Queen and Jimmy Eat World, but Max Bemis is still immature enough to demand "You kids better be gracious with the lunch money you spend/Because of you I will never have rough sex with Molly Connelly again," while remaining genuine enough to sigh on the inside. Armor For Sleep may very well be the screamo set's Radiohead. No, really. TREVOR KELLEY

THE FRAMES, MARK GEARY(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) See Music, Pg 25

NINA HAGEN, ANTIWORLD (Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) As far as eccentric vocal dynamos go, Nina Hagen makes Tori Amos seem as staid as Natalie Merchant. A dance diva with a punk persona, the Berlin-born Hagen penned the best-ever tribute to "New York, New York": Her aggressively dramatic anthem could catalyze club choreography or terrify small children with equal ease. Hagen makes exquisite use of her operatic range, her voice trilling at registers that would crack cartoon glass, but she also uses a strikingly husky tone, especially when singing in German. Hagen once antagonized Austrian television producers by simulating masturbation on a live program, and her live shows are no less daring and titillating. Ranging from African reggae to big-band torch tunes to uncategorizable cosmic compositions, Hagen's sets offer more variety than most cities' entire concert calendars. ANDREW MILLER

HIGH ON FIRE, YOB, AMONGST US, ALDEBARAN (Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) See Music, Pg 23

KRS-ONE, BOOM BAP PROJECT, ONEBELO (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) In 2002, KRS-One indirectly dissed Nelly on the track "Clear 'Em Out," and in response Nelly directly dissed KRS-One on the remix of "Rock the Mic." KRS-One then wrote a very long letter calling for, among several things, the boycott of Nelly's then soon-to-be-released sophomore CD, Nellyville. "Join the campaign," KRS-One wrote at the letter's end, "to send a message to all corporate exploiters of hiphop's culture. Boycott Nelly's album starting on June 25th, 2002." The boycott was a total failure, as the CD, Nellyville, sold six million copies--more than all the records KRS-One had sold in his entire career. These days, KRS-One's records don't make cash registers sing, and it's white hipsters and college students who are listening to his message, and not ghetto youth (Nelly has that market cornered). Although KRS-One's message is positive, he often wears it out; his last CD, Keep Right, has great beats but midway through you get tired of KRS-One "judging what's real hiphop" in the way you get tired of Nelly going on about his "yachts" and "rocks." CHARLES MUDEDE

TRACKER, TALKDEMONIC, YACHT (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) Tonight concludes YACHT's sprawling, three-show CD release party (see also Thursday at Noctural, Friday at Reed College)--the appropriately dubbed "Mega Weekend"--to celebrate his new CD/DVD and 10" on Marriage Records, Mega. Since effectively dissolving his former Badger King, Jona Bechtolt has taken up his YACHT solo project full-time--or at least as full time as someone who also moonlights as both one half of Portland powerhouse the Blow and touring drummer for Devendra Banhart can possibly commit to. Expect the heat. ZP

PORTLAND BEAVERS' NATIONAL ANTHEM AUDITIONS (PGE Park) It's like a dream come true! Here's your opportunity to absolutely slaughter the National Anthem in front of a crowd of angry, drunken baseball fans. But you have to pass the audition first! The Portland Beavers are looking for "quality" singers or musicians to perform the National Anthem at any of the 72 home games, and the auditions are this Saturday on the field at PGE Park (Jesus, aren't you glad you don't live in that neighborhood?)! Contact Amy Lilly at (503) 553-5536, or email to reserve a five minute audition slot (walk-ins will be accepted, depending on time availability). And even if you can't sing so good, you can always "scat"! The judges just LOVE "scatting." WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY

KICKBALL, WET CONFETTI, THE JIGSAW GENTLEMEN, BLANKET MUSIC (Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock) The longer they stick around Wet Confetti just keep getting better and better--and for fans of all things white and indie, they play the kind of music you'll never get sick of. Angular, electro, and slightly tortured (the confetti is wet after all) they make you want to put on your leg warmers, push your hair in your face, and dance all arty. In short, the perfect music for an evening at Reed. KS


CHURCH OF PSYCHEDELIA #3 FEATURING SPACEHAWK, ATOLE, SOLAR DRUID, DJ WHITE SHEIK (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Third in the psychedelic, free, monthly series at Berbati's Pan, the Church of Psychedelia is the ultimate prayer vehicle, making curator Josh Blanchard some sort of hip priest. This month Spacehawk presents highly-focused, free improvisation blending--mixture of oboe, bells, trumpet, reverb mixer, guitar, keyboards, drums, and vocals. Spacehawk presents cascading glimpses into a mysterious neverland, revealing how hard it is eating the same canned food on the space ship, and expository lyrics on time and space travel. Songs range from droney to spasticy-no wave, and there is everything in between, even the hippie jam band style is present in this awesome group, which features, at this performance, sexy Polynesian/alien dancers flanking the stage. Do make sure you attend, and when you do, leave all your notions of chronological time at the door. AMY VECCHIONE

KAISER CHIEFS, THE ORGAN, MU MESON (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See Music, Pg 23


NODES OF RANVIER, THE ESOTERIC, PARIA, THE BURNING SEASON (Davey Jones' Locker, 5925 SE Foster) For The Esoteric, whose Lawrence, Kansas home/studio burned to its foundations in late February, the nomadic lifestyle of the touring act has become an indefinite necessity. Playing on donated equipment while donning charitable-contribution clothing, the group started playing scheduled shows in support of its upcoming release With the Sureness of Sleepwalking less than two weeks after the faulty-wiring-provoked conflagration. At these gigs, The Esoteric exhibited the aggressive intensity of a desperate band funneling everything it has to live for into its concerts--but then, it always has. Drummer Marshall Kilpatric shakes his dreads like a seizure-stricken Medusa, Stevie Cruz unleashes a primal howl pitched between profound pain and premeditated malevolence, and dual guitar harmonies thrive amidst the searing riffs like oases on the sun's surface. AM


CRYPTOPSY, CATTLE DECAPITATION, DEVILINSIDE, THE AUTUMN OFFERING (Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd Ave) Since the early '90s, Cryptopsy has been making a name for themselves in the French Canadian death metal scene, peaking with the now-deemed classic speedy grind delivery None So Vile in '95, and plummeting with the exeunt of beloved vocalist Lord Worm (who deserves method acting credit for actually eating worms "in earnest," sometimes feeding them to fans out of a chalice from stage). Luckily, Worm was reinstated less than two years ago, after hardcore fans shat all over both his replacements. In these post-Fear Factor days the worms don't seem too 'core anymore, but it's still a classic metal show that could have maybe almost never happened. MARJORIE SKINNER

KINSKI, ONEIDA, BLACK MOUNTAIN (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) The best bands in the world follow their own muse, their signature sound passing flagrantly in and out of trends without concern. Since Oneida's formative release Anthem of the Moon (following their early more jam-based organ dirges), the band has been on the fringe of experimental sonic psych, anchored by repetitive Krautrock rhythms, muted vocal chants, and percussive keyboard play. 2004's Secret Wars saw the band maturely marrying synth textures with classic riffs, deftly sidestepping the already dated Brooklyn scene, and sounding pleasantly timeless. Even as the band's recordings mellow (and a tongue-in-cheek hippy vibe permeates), live Oneida performances are filled with manic energy, instrument swapping, and a throbbing, blasting excellence. NATHAN CARSON


DIRTY PROJECTORS, SILENTIST, DJ DARK YOGA (Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) See It's Who You Know, Pg. 31