ALEJANDRO ESCOVEDO, JOHN D. GRAHAM, RICHMOND FONTAINE (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Alejandro Escovedo has been around a long time, since his early punk days in bands like the Nuns and Rank and File to his rock band The True Believers. He's best known these days as a solo country artist, thanks largely to his records being released on the Bloodshot label (alongside Ryan Adams and Neko Case). Escovedo is an incredible songwriter, mixing witty and poetic lyrics in songs that are equally humorous and heartbreaking. He was recently diagnosed with Hepatitis C, and like most professional musicians, has no health insurance. He's always been an artist well worth supporting, and even more so now that his health depends on it. M. WILLIAM HELFRICH


JIMMY CHAMBERLIN COMPLEX (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Long before he was the of the iron-cast backbone of the Smashing Pumpkins (to make no mention of Zwan, please) Jimmy Chamberlin was holding it down in workhorses like Mojo Blues Band and JP & The Cats (note: actual names), so it's no surprise that of all of his former stadium-filling compatriots, he's the one first out of the gate with a total-pro, functioning band. The Complex is essentially the spawn of Jimmy and LA songwriter Billy Mohler, and their recent debut, Life Begins Again, features everything from jazz-rock riffage to vocal turns from ex-Catherine Wheel singer Rob Dickinson, Billy Corgan, and Righteous Brother Bill Medley (with all lyrics written by Jimmy--bouyah!). There is also a song called "Loki Cat." Nonetheless, the doe-eyed inspiration and purity of intent that seem to have driven Chamberlin to this new project could only be faulted by the truly hard-hearted. SAM MICKENS

LEVON LEVAN, STUNT DOUBLER, ALTAREGO, AREOLA 51 (Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) If Cold War funnyman Yakov Smirnoff were a lounge singer (and from Croatia insteada Mother Russia) he'd totally be Slavo from Portland's Levon Levan. Oft called the "Croatian Tom Jones" by record reviewers, and the "sey-xiest mehn alive" by himself, Slavo works a crowd like a 50-year-old Har Mar Superstar on a serious Siegfried and Roy kick leather pants, flowing silk shirts, grizzly bear chest hair all a-blazing. But is Slavo an ironic grifter making pomo theater or just some poor, dumb Croat who's been Hasselhoffed into believing he can make it in American showbiz? I hope it's the latter, but this seems to cheesy/good too be true. ADAM GNADE

LOUIS XIV, CROSSTIDE, THE DIVORCE (Loveland, 320 SE 2nd Ave) See "Music," Pg 23.

RAYMOND PETTIBON (PICA, 224 NW 13th, 7 pm) See "Arts Rodeo," Pg 41.

THE SHINS, MINDERS (Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Thanks to that shithead Zach Braff, the Shins are suddenly reliving the halcyon days of, like, four years ago. Dudes just made a video for "New Slang," the song they wrote for that McDonald's commercial a few years back, and are currently making another substantial class jump toward Yellowcard status. Oh yeah, and this show sold out in about three minutes. Sorry, kid. ZP


ELVIS COSTELLO & THE IMPOSTERS, SONDRE LERCHE (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Elvis remains a puzzle, even to me, his biggest fan of all time (FACT!). The Delivery Man, his latest rock album (or "rhythm record," as he insists on calling them), features great and terrible moments. His opera, Il Sogno, like his last LP, North, was a tendentious bummer. And every time you settle in to just loving him unconditionally, you go and read an interview like the nauseatingly pompous one he did with Joni Mitchell in Vanity Fair a while back. It's like he insists on not knowing why he is important and great; he knows he is, but he always makes the wrong assumptions about why. HOWEVER, he remains a revelatory live performer, unafraid of reaching into the treasure chest of beloved material to please the audience--even if he still thinks we're a bunch of fucking swine. SEAN NELSON

SARAH LEE GUTHRIE AND JOHNNY IRION, KEVN KINNEY (Fez, 316 SW 11th) He comes with a noted indie-rock pedigree, as a one-time member of '90s North Carolina bands Dillon Fence and Queen Sarah Saturday, but that's a pittance when lined up against her lineage--'60s folk singer Arlo is her father, great American music legend Woody was her grandfather, and the beat goes on. Together Johnny Irion and Sarah Lee Guthrie are husband and wife, parents, and the Gram Parsons/Emmylou Harris tag-team of the early 21st century, blending their textbook harmonies, lingering hooks, and societal observations for collaborative excursions into folk-rock and straight country originals (as heard on their most recent New West release, Exploration). SCOTT HOLTER

JERRY JOSEPH & THE JACKMORMONS, BELLA FAYES (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) Last time I wrote about ol' Jerry Joseph and his Jackmormons I asked how this Portland band could exist on such a highly professional level with so few local appearances and nary a new record in years besides a live album (albeit an awesome one). Someone posted my query on the Jerry Joseph fan mailing list, and *ta da!* I was magically inundated with dozens of letters from around the country touting the legendary awesomeness of the group. While that was very annoying, I did get what I asked for, and it was heartening to learn that JJ & the J's does have the following they deserve… just not in their hometown. I've said it once, and I'll say it again: this rock n' roots band is AWESOME live--their booming, intense live show is so good in fact, it makes their lengthy list of studio albums pretty much irrelevant; boring and tepid in comparison. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

MASTADON, BURNING BRIDES, EARLY MAN (Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) See "Music," Pg 21.


ANDREW BIRD, LAURA VEIRS, JORANE (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See "CD Reviews," Pg 21.

THE BODEANS, ASLYN (Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) The Bodeans have a new record out which pairs roots rock with Tex-Mex, BUT WHO CARES BECAUSE THIS IS TOTALLY THE BAND THAT WROTE THE THEME SONG TO PARTY OF FIVE! Yes! "Closer to Free"! Pure '90s alterno-radio slop with "philosophical" lyrics like "Everybody wants to live/How they wanna live/And everybody wants to love/Like they wanna love/And everybody wants to be/Closer to free." Genius! Don't pretend you didn't sing that shit whilst riding your bike home from school. AG

DEAD MEADOW, JENNIFER GENTLE, THE OUT CROWD (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Dead Meadow play heavy rock a step out of time, softening their leaden riffs and lazy vocals to such an extent that even the most twee of fans will stay on the bean bag and leave the volume up where it belongs. Now as a quartet, even more guitars blanket the landscapes they paint with dark sunset hues--begging the listener to build a fire, huddle close, and sway on into nightfall. On stage though, expect serious vibe, volume, and feedback that melds the more adventurous Unwound, the folkier side of Sabbath, and the overall goodness of the Pixies. Main supporters Jennifer Gentle are on loan to Sub Pop from Italy of all places, and pay serious tribute to the Syd Barrett-isms their namesake implies. Luckily, their '60s retro stylings are enriched with the humorous abandon of the Coachwhips and the whimsy of Stereo Total. NATHAN CARSON


MOTÖRHEAD, CORROSION OF CONFORMITY, ZEKE, FUZZY (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Sure, Lemmy is a fucking legend. But even though Motörhead have like 600 albums, if you're really honest with yourself, there are probably less than an album's worth of Motörhead songs you really, really wanna hear. And yet the point remains: Lemmy is a fucking legend. It's a pretty solid point, though--I mean, the dude was in Hawkwind. And before that he was a roadie for Jimi Hendrix. He even tried to teach Sid Vicious how to play bass. And even though he's probably about a thousand years old, he still pounds whiskey, plays video poker, and chases skanks at the titty bar around the corner from my house. So score one for Motörhead. J. BENNETT

WEEDWOLF, NEW DARK AGE, REALLY INTO PARTYING DJ CREW (Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) Brux had a dream, and this dream was one of those really good dreams. He dreamt of performing a 30-minute cover of Pink Floyd's "Set the Controls For the Heart of the Sun," and when he woke up from that dream, he said, "I'm gonna do it." And do it he will. Having performed in other mildly gothic oddities like Ice Machine, and Lord, there is much fertile territory being covered in most of his work, and Weedwolf is no exception. AMY VECCHIONE


BOYJAZZ (Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Evil women, deals with the devil, strange desires--sound familiar? Oakland's Boyjazz tread familiar rock territory on In the City Tonight, but for fans of Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, and irony, their glam-stocked cock rock is a fuzz-drenched homage to our leather-bound musical past and a heavy-metal rallying call to get it on. JENNIFER MAERZ

CHURCH OF PSYCHEDELIA FEATURING NICE NICE, ROLLERBALL, DJ WHITE SHEIK (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Josh Blanchard's monthly sonic temple opens it's doors yet again, and--surprise!--shit's reliable as ever. First of all, you've got the hyper-prolific, largely reliable eclecticism of Rollerball, playing selections from their recently released Catholic Paws/Catholic Pause LP. Also of note: tonight marks the triumphant return of Portland's favorite pedal contortionists Nice Nice, who've been noticeably quiet over the past several months. ZP


MICHAEL PENN (Mississippi Records, 3939 N Mississippi) Though his records reach smaller and smaller audiences as they go, Michael Penn is a great American songwriter--clever, catchy, and classical. The fact that he doesn't fit in either the major label or the indie label cosmology should be considered a great testament to his originality. Fifteen years after his debut LP, and the problematic (though brilliant) hit "No Myth," Penn remains a dignified, interesting, and hard-working musician. SEAN NELSON

UNDEROATH, HOPESFALL, THE CHARIOT, FEAR BEFORE THE MARCH OF FLAMES (Loveland, 320 SE 2nd Ave) Underoath's They're Only Chasing Safety was not exactly a fun record, but that wasn't really the point. It's theatrical screamo and "musical" ambitions pretty much slayed, and thus it seems forgivable that Underoath's record was also about these Floridian former-metal shop dorks commitment to their Lord and savior. It was Thursday for a Sunday Morning service, which basically makes them heirs to U2's crown of thorns. (Or was it made of platinum?) TREVOR KELLEY


CHEN SANTA MARIA, YACHT, NUDGE, WORLD, DJS DARK YOGA, UNKLE LIFE UNKLE LOVE (Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) A good friend of mine once maintained the guise of being in a fictional ensemble called "George Chen's Noise Band." This joke would be endlessly funnier if we all lived in the Bay Area, where Chen (of Zum Media, Boxleitner, 7-Year Rabbit Cycle, etc., etc., ad infinitum) has had a gnat-like ever-presence for, like, ever--but for now, you'll just have to trust me. Tonight, Chen Santa Maria--George Chen's new noise band--is joined by the endlessly exciting local likes of Nudge, YACHT, and World. ZP

ADAM GREEN, KIMYA DAWSON, THE GNOMES (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See "Music," Pg 23.


RADAR BROS, PSEUDOSIX (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See "CD Review," Pg 21.

TRICK DADDY, LIL FLIP, TOO SHORT, THE OUTLAWS (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Trick Daddy's such a thug he once wrote a song called "I'm a Thug." He also dropped recs with names like Thugs Are Us, Book of Thugs: Chapter AK Verse 47, and the hilarious Trick's new one, Thug Matrimony: Married to the Streets, is his best yet. It's Talking Heads samples vis-a-vis guest spots by Ron Isley, and enough Dirty South dirty mouth to scare away folks that are either A) too white B) prudes C) work in the programming dept. at radio stations. Best songs are the wild and wholly "Thugs About" and the Ludacris/Cee-Lo collab, "Sugar (Gimmie Some)," which is looped acoustic guitar, an easy near-reggae groove, and back porch summer party jam steez. Thug life! AG


ASVA, POINT LINE PLANE, EDIE SEDGWICK, ZOMBI (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Local industrial experimentalist top dogs Point Line Plane have invited some intriguing friends to play with them tonight. Avsa's first album, Futurists Against the Ocean, does modern experimental version of doom rock, their sound similar to an extended intro for an inky black metal song, except the speedy guitars never come in. Zombi is more upbeat and even more cinematic, with almost danceable rhythms and buzzes of retro, almost disco-y electro, sounding like the theme song to a '70s sci-fi drama TV show. But the weirdest, and most fun, is Edie Sedgwick. Luckily, the name is part of a semi-hilarious drag act in which Justin Moyer (El Guapo) prances the stage singing electroclash songs about and titled after celebs. For instance, "Lucy Liu," the lyrics of which are: "Girl power! Fight fight! Just kidding! Not kidding! Bullshit!" Awesome? Lame? You decide. MARJORIE SKINNER

ATMOSPHERE (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See "My, What a Busy Week!" Pg 19.

DURANGO PARK CD RELEASE PARTY, MAN OF THE YEAR, ARMYNAVY (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) Too often, the word "celebrate" is used to so thoughtlessly precede "the release of their new CD," that one cannot rightly differentiate those musical releases that are cause for party hats and cake, and those that simply utilize the verb to call attention to events that are about as noteworthy as Columbus Day. Thus, I feel a special need to make it abundantly clear that the release of Durango Park's new E.P., One By One (Tiny Beat Records), is indeed a cause for pin-the-tail-on-the-ass-who-doesn't-love-this-CD celebration. Despite undergoing several lineup changes in the last year, co-songwriters Rob Bonds and John Kwon have continued to grow, thanks to a deliberate and unrelenting drive to create songs as rich and textured as baklava. Even better than cake! KIP BERMAN

REGINA SPEKTOR (Lola's, 1332 W Burnside) It's gotta feel like a mighty step down for Madame Spektor to be hitting up the Crystal's diminutive Lola's Room considering her recent exploits--last month the NYC Anti-folkstress was playing on Conan, and it wasn't too long ago that she was touring with (and guesting on a track by) the ever-lovin' Strokes. Still, she's on the media rise, largely benefited by a stroke (Ha!) of good luck called the freak-folk movement--a shot at the spotlight that's seen a suspicious number of mediocre singer-songwriters adopting painfully affected vocal ticks in a bid for glory. I'll keep this brief: Joanna Newsom + Fiona Apple = Regina Spektor. If the very notion doesn't make your skin crawl, you have no business with those ears of yours. ZP