THURSDAY 1/29

PORTLAND MUSIC AWARDS: MEL BROWN, ACOUSTIC MINDS, TEA FOR
JULIE , DEBRA ARLYN, AARON MEYER, & MORE

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) The most difficult aspect of
being presented with this music awards ceremony, organized by Craig
Marquardo and his unintentionally hilarious Music Spectator magazine, is whether or not to cover it. Any ink we give to this
event—which no one asked for—only legitimizes it, so all we
can say is this: Be wary. Be wary of an event that nominates albums
that have never been released (Failing Records: Volume 5,
nominated for “Best Compilation Album of the Year,” is not due out
until much later in 2009) and be wary of any event that knows so little
about music, that Bryan Adams is considered a candidate for “Best Live
Show by a National Touring Act.” At best, the PMAs are a terrible joke
that accentuates how hilariously out of touch, and irrelevant,
Marquardo truly is. There are countless ways to support Portland music;
sadly, this is not one of them. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

K RECORDS SHOWCASE: LAKE, WALLPAPER, HORNET LEG, THE
VIBRARIANS

Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) It’s time to get acquainted with the 2009
roster of K Records, and this bill crams together four of the Olympia
label’s finest purveyors of garage pop. Despite a name that implies
lackadaisical background music, Wallpaper make jangly, pumped-up
cartoon rock of the undying, evergreen ’60s vintage. Their songs pack
as much of a sugar-rush jolt as a bottle of soda pop, and will probably
do a number on your teeth. It’s seriously fun music, as goofy as good
times can get—bring your jumping shoes and your funnest friend.
Meanwhile, Hornet Leg’s Chris Sutton is a ubiquitous presence around
Portland, and his blurry, color-saturated garage rock is wholly
exuberant without sacrificing any of its primitiveness. The
bathroom-tile echo of the Vibrarians makes lo-fi poster childs du jour
Vivian Girls sound as clinical as the Alan Parsons Project, and Lake’s
open-hearted pop songs offer comfy, surreptitious delight, like an
oversized fluffy bathrobe you stole from an expensive hotel. NED
LANNAMANN

ALAN SINGLEY & PANTS MACHINE, TEAM EVIL, GAVIN
CASTLETON

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) I don’t see what the big deal is. Who
hasn’t written a sprawling conceptual album about love during a
zombie apocalypse in order to heal the wounds of a freshly broken
heart? Yawn. To his credit, recent Portland transplant Gavin Castleton
has an unique vision for Home, one that (somehow) balances
post-breakup suffering with the pure chaos of an attack from reanimated
human corpses. Castleton has a tremendous gift for fashioning grand
cinematic songs that swell with ambitious prose—”We became a
force/with the carnal carnage of our braided legs and our twisting
hips”—yet still rest firmly within the parameters of the album’s
theme. And just a little note to the walking undead: You can eat
Castleton’s brains, but please leave his heart alone. He’s suffered
enough. EAC

SLEEPY SUN, THE UPSIDEDOWN, REBEL DRONES, THE PINK
SNOWFLAKES<

(Peter’s Room at the Roseland, 8 NW 6th) San Francisco’s Sleepy Sun
have distorted, fuzzed-out bass sauntering through the stoner groove of
the epic “New Age,” and their blissed-out, blotter-paper rock doesn’t
lack any muscle or mystery. Their hazy sound is decadently comfortable
despite its menace—kind of like fur-lined handcuffs, or trans
fats. Unlike so many other post-Dandy drug bands, Sleepy Sun doesn’t
lock into a one-riff groove and ride it out for the duration; instead
their dynamics flicker like a bonfire, complete with roaring blazes,
simmering ashes, and skyward-climbing flares. Like Dead Meadow crossed
with Brightblack Morning Light, Sleepy Sun dare ask the question of
what Let it Bleed might’ve sounded like with even more drugs. The answer: pretty damn good. NL

ARABELLA 2009: MALCOLM ROLLICK, FAITH HELMA, TRACEY
BROYLES, SUGAR SHORT WAVE, SOPHE LUX , JULIA FRODAHL, MOLLY
JOCHEN

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Prior to departing upon her badass
eight-month cross-country bicycle musical road show, local
singer/songwriter Malcolm Rollick has been busy organizing the Arabella
music festival. The evening will feature an integration of music and
visual arts conjured by a variety of local talent: Sophe Lux will
combine their somber gothic-Celtic rock infusion with surprise
performance-based material, while electronica programmer Sugar Short
Wave will complement her ambient technical switch work with her own
visual projections. New York City-based Julia Frodahl will be on hand
to incorporate the instrument of voice into performance art, as visual
artist Molly Jochem invites the audience to weave a giant web of found
materials into a nest from which to warm brittle bones. EM BROWNOWE

FRIDAY 1/30

SHARON JONES & THE DAP-KINGS, IVAN MILEV

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!,

GOUSEION, DJ HONEYDRIPPER, DJ RAINBOW PUDDING

(Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) See review.

THREE 6 MAFIA, COOL NUTZ, CHEF BOYZ

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See review.

THE ALBUM LEAF, BLACK MAMBA, ANOMIE BELLE

Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) See review

MAD PROFESSOR, EVERYDAY PROPHETS

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Yes, Mad Professor has produced many
great dub albums, but it is his total reworking (or versioning) of
Massive Attack’s second album, Protection, into No
Protection, to which I repeatedly return. Released in 1995, Mad
Professor’s version turned out to be far better than the
original—the ideal condition of dub. Indeed, it salvaged Massive
Attack’s Protection, which was vapid and dry, like a plain
painting of a plain beauty. In No Protection, Mad Professor
exploded this ordinary beauty into a vast world whose seas shimmered
and whose skies were agitated, brightened, and amazed by falling stars
and rising fireworks. If the secret ambition of all versioning is to
destruct and reconstruct the original into something new and improved,
then Mad Professor is a master at this alchemy. CHARLES MUDEDE Also
see My, What a Busy Week!

NEIL YOUNG TRIBUTE: THE MINUS 5, LEWI LONGMIRE BAND , DON
OF DIVISION ST.

(Dante’s, 1 SW 3rd) Neil Young diehards know this, but you may not:
One of ol’ Neil’s very finest albums has never been re-released on CD.
Instead, Time Fades Away languishes in used vinyl shops for
those willing to pony up for it. Recorded in 1973, it’s a live album of
new-at-the-time songs, and the highlight, “Don’t Be Denied,” is an
emotional powerhouse, an absolute classic that should have been put on
Decade. “L.A.” is a sloppy rocker leftover from the Buffalo
Springfield days, and “The Bridge” and “Love in Mind” are two of his
loveliest piano ballads. Tonight, a series of Portland pros pay homage
to Neil’s unofficial “Doom” trilogy, of which Time Fades Away was the first installment, followed by On the Beach and
Tonight’s the Night. Here’s a chance to listen to some vintage
Neil you can’t buy on iTunes, alongside some songs you should know very
well. NL

MATT AND KIM, CHAMPAGNE CHAMPAGNE, MAGIC JOHNSON

(Backspace, 115 NW 5th) At the beginning of this year, I was faced
with a very important decision—I had to find my anthem for 2009.
Last year was a bit boring, and I believe it’s because I lacked a
proper anthem, a tune I’d listen to in order to start my day on the
right ass-kicking note. Included on the list of contenders for this
year was Matt and Kim’s “Daylight,” their latest optimistic single that
starts with a bouncing keyboard line that clutches onto your brain and
doesn’t let go. The song perfectly matches your pace as you walk down
the sidewalk—it’s good for a sunny day, a gray day, or nighttime.
MEGAN SELING

THE DOGS, WILD WEEKEND, SCOTT “DELUXE” DRAKE, DJ
PAULTIMORE

(East End, 203 SE Grand) The Dogs resurrect the mighty fury of early
punk rock, but worry not: This ain’t no revival project. Still with
plenty of chomp, the Dogs’ run stretches just short of 40 years (!) and
their debut single “John Rock and Roll Sinclair”—written in honor
of the former manager of the MC5 and head of the White Panther
Party—still holds up after all these years. Not to mention the
ferocity of “Slash Your Face,” which offers a harrowing glimpse of what
an early punk band needed to sound like. Plus, unlike former peer Iggy
Pop, the Dogs will (most likely) perform fully clothed. I love you,
Iggy, but it’s time to hide that leathery skin underneath a T-shirt.
EAC

SATURDAY 1/31

JON GARCIA AND THE BEST LAID PLANS, LEVATOR,
SWALLOWS

(Mississippi Pizza Pub, 3552 N Mississippi) Seattle’s Levator is the
unlikely trio of guitar, drums, and sax, but they emit a florid,
encompassing sound that is rich with shadow and detail. Guitarist Sky
Lynn is a vocalist of surprising range, and on the band’s new
full-length, The Biggest Waves Come at Night, she weaves both
wordless chorales and hard-rock vocals with equal skill. And don’t be
put off by the presence of Nate Henry’s sax: This isn’t Huey Lewis and
the News or Men at Work. Henry’s drawn-out, haunting lines aim for
drama, mood, and mystery rather than rooty-toot gas piping. Together,
the trio patiently creates a stormy, lush backdrop in which songs
rise up slowly, then heavily crash down like waves hitting sand. NL
Levator also performs tonight at 6 pm at Music Millennium (3158 E
Burnside).

JESSICA STILES

(Biddy McGraw’s, 6000 NE Glisan) The brand-new self-titled EP from
singer/songstress Jessica Stiles is a rural affair consisting of a
small dose of well-meaning, if not overtly clichéd, Americana.
Opening on the wrong foot with the sluggish “Carousel,” where trite
lyrics (“Like a midnight cowboy coming out of the dusk/I can see your
eyes and taste your musk”) and labored metaphors (Oh, so carousels take
you in circles, without ever delivering you anywhere new?) weigh down
the stark arrangements and tasteful slide guitar work of Dylan-Thomas
Vance. Thankfully things perk up later with the Sweetheart of the
Rodeo­­-esque stylings of “I Never Had the One I Wanted,”
where Stiles’ voice echoes with a wounded and distant cadence. EAC

SUNDAY 2/1

RED FANG , BLACK ELK , BLACK EYES &
NECKTIES

(Rontoms, 600 E Burnside) What a difference a video makes. The
troublemakers in Red Fang teamed with Whitey McConnaughy to make a
music video for “Prehistoric Dog” (you might remember it as the
greatest video to ever feature live action role-playing, suits of
beer-can armor, and plenty of gratuitous violence), which led to a new
record deal, fancy lawyer, booking agent, and a large pile of cash in
which the band now rolls around, naked. Okay, perhaps the bed of money
has yet to arrive, but it’s only a matter of time, as the Fang is
currently gearing up to gnaw their way through the States while
supporting Clutch, re-releasing their self-titled LP (formerly out on
Wantage), planning an invasion of Europe, and scheduling a summertime
recording session for a new full-length of ear-damaging rock ‘n’ roll
girth. All this because—unlike you and I—when Red Fang
shotgun beer and dress like knights from Ye Olde Royal Kingdom of PBR,
they are smart enough to capture it all on film. EAC

ORIGAMI GHOSTS, INSIDE VOICES, HELLO LONELINESS

(Valentine’s, 232 SW Ankeny) Origami Ghosts have been described as
Modest Mouse with a cello, but their sound is warmer and
friendlier—which I suppose you can partly blame on the cello,
from which Ki Johnsen draws out smooth, glowing lines that soften the
edges of J.P. Scesniak’s angular guitar playing. Origami Ghosts’ second
album, Short Momentum, is pleasing, unpretentious pop that can’t
be bothered with any of Isaac Brock’s morose abyss gazing. There are a
few white-knuckle moments, but Scesniak’s songs are like a good cup of
tea: soothing, gentle, suitable for both the morning and evening.
NL

MONDAY 2/2

SUPREME BEINGS OF LEISURE, CARMEN RIZZO, DJ SANTO

(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) Frankly, it had been years since I
listened to the 2000 self-titled debut of Supreme Beings of Leisure. On
a recent re-listen, I was surprised to find their danceable triphop far
more engaging than I remembered, mistakenly thinking they were only
good as background music. While they’ll never be the band that inspires
a revolution, singer/songwriter Geri Soriano-Lightwood fronts a brand
of effective, cool, and polished electro that on 11i, their
newest, seems even more buffed than their previous two albums. Combined
with KMHD’s DJ Santo, whose tracks are spot-on, this should be a chic
and aesthetically pleasing way to spend an evening. COURTNEY FERGUSON
Supreme Beings of Leisure also performs tonight at 5:30 pm at Music
Millennium (3158 E Burnside). Also see My, What a Busy Week!, pg.
15.

TUESDAY 2/3

AMY RAY, ARIZONA, PACKER

(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) In the late ’80s, my inamorata
loved the Indigo Girls, so I became intimately familiar with their
self-titled 1989 album. It wasn’t my thing then, but the disc’s
incredibly warm-hearted folk rock gradually won over my shoegaze-loving
ears. Two decades later, a few songs from it still resonate in my mind.
As a solo artist, Indigo Girls singer/songwriter Amy Ray sports a
surprisingly robust, Southern-white-girl soulfulness and a
harder-rocking steez than she does in IG, while retaining her knack for
hooks that linger in memories for decades. She’s also one of the most
industrious activists in music, cofounding Honor the Earth and engaging
in gay, women’s, and other rights causes. Support Ray and you get bonus
good-liberal points. DAVE SEGAL

WEDNESDAY 2/4

BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE, GRAND ARCHIVES

(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) See review.

CRADLE OF FILTH, SATYRICON, SEPTIC FLESH

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) For all the enlightened fence sitting and
patience pushing of today’s anything-but-black black metal, a straight
shot of the remaining basics can be equally—and
immediately—intoxicating. Satyricon’s latest rager, The Age of
Nero, arrived on my desk as a no-bullshit CD-R without a track
listing or record label (they have since signed to Koch Records). It’s
a 42-minute “Immigrant Song” made nastier by Norwegians
(“Anti-Immigrant Song”?), anchored in rhythm by ceaseless, prolific,
sexualized blast-master Frost (also of 1349). Vocalist/guitarist Satyr
downtunes the drifting craft into concentrated barrages of spite and
determined intensity. Standard and consistent (no dissent within these
borders), the album, even without song titles, represents clarity in a
world of clutter. MIKE MEYER