Up & Coming

THURSDAY 1/10

LUPE FIASCO, OPTIMUS

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See My, What a Busy Week! and Music Feature.

THIS BIKE IS A PIPE BOMB, DRUNKEN BOAT, VENA CAVA, P.O.P.,
DESTROY NATE ALLEN

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) Remember before you were jaded? This Bike Is
a Pipe Bomb remembers. For almost a decade, they’ve been playing the
sort of reckless, raucous, earnest-yet-immediate folk-punk you used to
listen to before you became such a hyper-judgmental, post-ironic
hipster jerk. But while you got snide and way too cool for school,
TBIAPB managed to stick to their guns (all-ages shows, rare interviews,
their DIY collective-run record label Plan-It X) and put on fun,
kick-ass shows, all without a single ounce of pretension. If you ever
listened to Operation Ivy without shame, still listen to early Mountain
Goats, or if you’ve ever thrown a house show, it’s impossible not to
love This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb. HANNAH CARLEN

THE SECTION QUARTET, PSEUDOSIX

(Dante’s, 1 SW 3rd) The Section Quartet are billed as “the loudest
string quartet on the planet.” Wait, is that a good thing? I’m all for
ambitious descriptions, but I hardly associate a string ensemble’s
quality with their ability to reach an extreme level of volume.
Granted, maybe if a band claimed to be “the loudest black metal band in
the Nordic fjords,” I’d take a bit more interest, but when it’s a
quartet of band nerds from California clutching stringed instruments,
it just ain’t the same. Regardless, the Section Quartet perform rock
songs on the cello, and while their Fuzzbox recording is a bit
forgettable, they seem like an act that begs to be witnessed in the
live setting, onstage, bows in hand. Tonight, they’ll tackle their own
material in addition to covering songs from Radiohead’s OK
Computer, all the while heavily squinting as they pay homage to
Thom Yorke’s lazy eyelid. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

EGYPTIAN LOVER, SAD MUSIC FOR HAPPY HUMANS, WHO
CARES

(Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy) You may not be on a first-name basis
with Egyptian Lover, and you may have a hard time naming any one of his
songs, but when the first few bars of “Egypt, Egypt” (his 1984 club
hit) come in, all unfamiliarity will go out the window. And why is
that? Because “Egypt, Egypt” is to electro-heads what New Order’s “Blue
Monday” has always been to budding hipsters and ’80s-themed dance
nights. The song is inescapable, and whether you can name it or not,
it’s been played by a DJ somewhere, every day, for the last 24-plus
years. But don’t worry, the dude is more than a one-trick Lover, and if
nothing else, he is definitely going to bring the jams and the party.
ROB SIMONSEN

LEIGH MARBLE, JARED MEES & THE GROWN CHILDREN, STUART
VALENTINE

(Ash Street Saloon, 225 SW Ash) There are some singer/songwriters
whose gentle crooning about love lost, and love found, is perfect while
sipping your evening latte down at the café. That’s fine. Lord
knows we all need a little tenderness from time to time. Leigh Marble,
though, is not one of those singer/songwriters. This baby-faced
powerhouse is more likely to inspire you to spike your soy, break the
mug over some chump’s head that’s looking at you the wrong way, and
then scoop up your best friend’s girl, leaving him holding a biscotti
and wondering what the hell just happened. So go ahead—drop a
shot of espresso in your Guinness and regret it all in the morning. You
can blame it on Leigh. ANDY YOUNG

FRIDAY 1/11

THE MOTHER HIPS, WEINLAND

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!

KULTURSZENE: KATE SIMKO, M. QUIET, 31AVAS

(Branx, 320 SE 2nd) Based out of Chicago, Kate Simko is at the
forefront of a new generation of techno DJs that prefer to reel in the
ridiculous excesses of the genre, in exchange for some intelligent
mixes and restrained DJ flair. Simko’s work behind the tables relies on
a foundation of stylish, minimal beats, tempered rhythms, and enough
thumping bass to keep things bumping all night long. Consider her the
thinking woman’s DJ, one who keeps the dance floor moving without ever
dumbing it down. For her DJ work, and collaboration with Chilean Andres
Bucci in Detalles, Simko has assembled a bevy of cooing press
clips—this preview being just one of many. EAC

NAPALM BEACH, OLD GROWTH, DIRTY LOWDOWNS

(Dante’s, 1 SW 3rd) Legend has it that singer/guitarist Chris Newman
of proto-grunge act Napalm Beach spent the first half of the last
decade on the streets of San Francisco, homeless and using heroin. His
MySpace page acknowledges a “never-ending battle with addiction,” but
it also outlines his recent accomplishments. He’s now living in
Portland—where Napalm Beach formed in 1980—and playing with
Divining Rods and others, making good on a musical promise he gave the
Oregonian in 2002: “I’m going to do it again. I don’t know how I
lived without it.” Newman’s psychedelic-tinged blues chords and
surreal, painfully mortal vocals paved the way for Kurt Cobain’s
stylistic pay dirt (Napalm Beach and Nirvana crossed paths live and on
Tim/Kerr Records’ 1992 Wipers tribute). This is a rare one-off reunion
show with a band that inspired our region’s most famous—and
infamous—music. MIKE MEYER

THE PRIDS, DJ MISPRID, CITYROCKER

(East End, 203 SE Grand) Time to check in on our fave goth-pop trio,
the Prids. To the Goth Cave! It’s been a long run for the
Prids—their first record came out over seven years ago—but
their dance card for 2008 has already filled up quite nicely. Says
bassist Mistina Keith, “We’re touring Europe this year, planning
another couple epic US tours (in 2006 we were out three months
straight, some of that with Built to Spill), and David [Frederickson,
guitarist to the Prids, ex-husband to Keith] and I have been talking
about going full force with our own label, and releasing our records
ourselves and keeping it more DIY than ever.” If all those ambitious
goals aren’t enough, Keith is also hosting (and DJing) her own night at
East End. Called “Expressway to Your Skull,” the evening will find
Keith spinning records from “unsucky bands,” in addition to the
occasional live act as well. EAC

ETERNAL TAPESTRY, ROLLERBALL, PLANTS, BRAVE
PRIEST

(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) The swirling, heavy mass of post-Kraut
rock and group improvisation that makes up the shimmering core of
Eternal Tapestry has now been captured deep in the analog grooves of a
shiny LP. I pity the poor slab of vinyl that is forced to house the
mighty heft of the fittingly titled Mystic Induction, a record
that, lord willing, should be available in time for tonight’s show.
Joining them will be the sparse and holy Brave Priest, the joyful
psychedelic aneurysms of Plants, and—if your heart wasn’t already
palpitating with this lineup—the sinister cabaret Rollerball will
be present as well. The only thing missing is you. EAC

SATURDAY 1/12

THE HEAD CAT, BLACKOUT RADIO,

STOOD-UPS

(Dante’s, 1 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!

REBOOTING DEMOCRACY CONFERENCE: <a href=”http://classifieds.portlandmercury.com/portland/ViewBand?oid=oid%3A61643″THE SHAKY HANDS, DJ BEYONDA,
COPACRESCENT, TYLER STENSON

(Montgomery Park, 2701 NW Vaughn) See My, What a Busy Week!

CARCRASHLANDER, GRAVES, LAKE

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See Music Feature.

GABRIEL TEODROS, SLEEP, BAMBU, DJ
PHATRICK

(Berbati’s Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See Music Feature.

LEADFACE, LAST REGIMENT OF SYNCOPATED DRUMMERS, DJ BLISS, DJ
MICHAEL, DJ D-LYTE

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) See Music Feature.

OAKHELM, THE FUNERAL PYRE, BOOK OF BLACK EARTH, BOOK OF
BELIAL

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) The skeleton key of black metal is also one
that opens doors to folk music, and it’s always surprising to walk in
on a dude softly plucking his lute when you’re expecting Darkthrone. On
Betwixt And Between, Portland’s Oakhelm fall into this Viking
sect of black metal, embracing acoustic instruments, swagger, and women
(“Skal Shanty,” “Maybon Shore”) during breaks from electric lunacy.
Still, they’re scarier in blast-beat mode. “Of Wood and Blood” and
“Immram” open and close the debut, respectively, with crickets,
lap-around rhythm (lead singer/bassist Pete Jay was in Assück),
general barbarism, and colorful guitar leads that say more than Jay’s
aggressive bark. Even at their harshest, Oakhelm structure songs within
a boxy jig. It’s strange, but consistently folkish. Similar to the
melodic pairing of power-metal guitarist Ralph Santolla with
death-metal band Deicide, Oakhelm successfully graft angelic wings to
an ungodly genre. MM

THE MINUS 5, CASEY NEILL AND THE NORWAY RATS, OH
DARLING

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) It sort of seems like former Young Fresh
Fellows frontman Scott McCaughey lives the dream life. Able to spin
endlessly inventive and singable webs of rock, he has attracted through
the years an unbeatable list of collaborators to his pop collective
known as the Minus 5. Seemingly, the dude can play with anybody the
wants, and has, including Colin Meloy, Robyn Hitchcock, Wilco (with
whom he cut an entire collaborative album), Mary Lou Lord, and even the
Presidents of the USA. That said, you won’t see any of those folks
onstage tonight (actually, I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if local
boy Meloy, who cameos on the stellar track “Cemetery Row” off M5’s 2006
self-titled album, made an appearance), though you might see M5
regulars Peter Buck (yes that Peter Buck), and the Posies’ Jon
Auer and Ken Stringfellow. Whether you’re a fan of McCaughey’s
’60s-tinged jangles or not, you likely won’t encounter music played
better than you will with this crew. JUSTIN W. SANDERS

SHOLI, THE DEAD SCIENCE, VALEDICTION
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Seattle’s the Dead Science generate compelling
tension from the contrast between Sam Mickens’ probing falsetto and the
bass-driven rhythm section of Nick Tamburro and Jherek Bischoff. That
Bischoff’s bass playing can shift from thoroughly rock oriented to a
more timeless, jazz-influenced style helps to fuel the Dead Science’s
range. In fact, when you read interviews with the trio that indicate
they’re a rock band with a background steeped in the avant-garde, it
doesn’t really come as a surprise. 2005’s Frost Giant alternated
moody rock numbers with sparser pieces, while the following year’s
Crepuscle with the Dead Science EP found them refining the
elements of their sound even further. TOBIAS CARROLL

SUNDAY 1/13

CRASH ROMEO, SAY NO MORE, KILL YOUR EX, WRITE THIS DOWN,
SHIPSHAPE & BRISTOL FASHION, THE GREENERY, FALCO DOES IT
DIRTY

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) It’s been years since I’ve said
this, but there was a recently a great article in Spin on the
“emo voice” and the studio trickery used to forcefully propel the
grating boyish whine—one that all nü-emo frontmen must have
these days—to the forefront of the mix. No band fits this profile
better than the chunky suburban bumpkins of New Jersey’s Crash Romeo.
Signed to once respectable hardcore label Trustkill, the Romeo lads are
just another pasty lot of limp rocking mall-punks lobbying for Top
Eight status on your li’l sister’s MySpace profile. Also, dudes, check
a mirror before proudly boasting of your multiple clothing sponsors
(wait, there’s a clothing line called Selfless Murder Clothing? That’s
for real? You didn’t just make that shit up?), because Vidal Sassoon
was not lying when he spit that “If you don’t look good, we don’t look
good” line. Big ups Vidal. EAC

MONDAY 1/14

PWRFL POWER, MATTRESS, AH HOLLY FAM’LY

(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) See My, What a Busy Week!

TUESDAY 1/15

Today is the Michigan primary. If Obama doesn’t win, I’ll burn
Ypsilanti to the freakin’ ground.

WEDNESDAY 1/16

MODERNSTATE, GHOST TO FALCO, RIBBONS

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) If Modernstate (the twisting, lilting,
gorgeous head-trip of Sam Schauer) isn’t already among your favorite
Portland artists, just start by thinking of him as Portland’s own
Caribou—a rare performer that somehow makes his incredibly dense,
arresting, beautiful songs seem airy, almost effortless; easy, but
never simple. Ghost to Falco, a one-man band with all-star supporters,
walks the spare, folk-meets-electronic line, not unlike Quiet Countries
but with a stronger vocal focus. And Jherek Bischoff (Ribbons) may just
be the most prolific NW artist you’ve never heard. His many playing and
producing credits include Dead Science (with whom he is performing here
on Saturday), Xiu Xiu, Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, Yellow Swans,
Parenthetical Girls, Degenerate Art Ensemble, and tons more. Ribbons
alternates between a built-out orchestral sound and his more indie rock
sensibilities, experimenting, of course, but with a pop-influenced song
structure and a sweeter, spacier tone. HC

JARED MEES & THE GROWN CHILDREN, CASTLE, MINMAE, FALL OF
SNOW

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) Much like Cassadaga, the
latest from Conor Oberst and his moniker Bright Eyes, Jared Mees does a
damn fine job of combining his emoting and confessional lyrics with a
dignified, back porch-stomping swagger. Mees is a confident frontman
who doesn’t bother pandering to the emo set, nor does he sing with that
faux-Nashville twang; instead, his voice mumbles with a wonderful
stoner drawl, like a slightly more ambitious, less marble-mouthed J
Mascis. Meanwhile, the charismatic Fall of Snow—the nom de plume
of one Stephanie Casey, who traded the glitz and Botox of Hollywood for
Portland, a Telecaster, and an army of delay pedals—opens the
show. It doesn’t hurt that she has a disarming voice that is both sweet
and a wee bit dangerous, and a bevy of well-penned songs. Odds are,
Casey won’t be opening shows for too much longer. EAC

CASTANETS, ADAM GNADE, WHIP
(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) Over the course of three albums on
Asthmatic Kitty, Castanets has been the outlet for Ray Raposa’s
explorations of sonic contrasts and philosophical debates. He does so
in a gripping style, based at times in folk and at times in something
more experimental. Last year’s In the Vines found the ideal
synthesis between his more traditionally rooted impulses and the
burgeoning, electronics-heavy elements that occasionally surfaced in
the earlier Cathedral and First Light’s Freeze. Live,
Castanets can be transcendent, a shifting array of musicians
alternating impassive drones and rock chops while Raposa’s voice cracks
the surface with his narratives—sometimes oblique, and sometimes
buoyant with clarity. TC