THURSDAY 1/25

SOPHE LUX, THE SORT OFS, SILVERHAWK

(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) Dear the Sort Ofs: WOW can I get lost in your piano lines and extended harmonies and enveloping rhythms. You had me from the first "whoaaaaaaaaaa," and you've certainly found a way to use keyboards and bleepybloops without giving us even more poser-dance-punk. But then! Then! You OVER-SING. This marks many a local band around the world, and it's almost HEARTBREAKING in your case, because DAMN have you got the chops! I want you to be successful, but I also would rather hear John Mayer sing about the iPhone than your hidden-track reworking of "My Country 'Tis of Thee." I predict that live, your over-singing will be less Harvey Danger, Rush, and Richard Marx, and more Danger Marx the SuperRussian! Or something. But seriously, I think you've got the talent, so do your best. We're rooting for you! Best, JIM WITHINGTON

I AM THE ARM, DEATH WORTH LIVING, PULSE EMITTER

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Hooray for eclectic bills! Pulse Emitter is a one-man paint-peeling noise scather from right here. Actually all these folks are local except for some of the many guests that Death Worth Living have enlisted to make their ten-piece "big band" idea into a special one-time event. Amongst these players are a drummer from Sacramento that will be shared by headliners I Am the Arm tonight. The Arm recently got a lot of press for their short-lived collaboration with drummer/whirlwind/freakout Lauren K. Newman. LKN's work is explosive, but truly I Am the Arm have deserved attention on their own merit for their melting pot of rock styles that recall other indescribables like the Minutemen and Nomeansno. Check out their no bullshit fusion at the equally no bullshit Rotture. NATHAN CARSON

VIVA VOCE, THE VILLAGE GREEN, CAVES

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Make no mistake: The Village Green plays Dude Rock. They've got all the trappings: a lead guitar player full of solos; that rock-singer-twang that makes people hate CCR; cringe-worthy lyrics involving "neon thighs," random references to Jesus; echo-y vocals. But then "Country Road" surrenders beautifully into Cheap Trick, complete with sunny background vocals and wonderfully simply solos, and you start to pay attention. There's a pop band in there waiting to let loose; let's hope they stick closely to Teenage Fanclub and ditch their dudedom directly. JW

APE SHAPE, NEW BLOODS, LETI-ANGEL

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Awesome local ladies New Bloods play lo(west)fi(ever) indiepunk that's pure '90s riotgrrl minimalism. The vocals are always buried, like, 16 miles below the bass (and switch around each other, harmonize sneeringly, and shout); all members sing (in a non-singery-ish way); and—best of all—sometimes they break into a lil' Bikini Killer primitive dance-punk. The violin, too, is a rad touch, placing them somewhere between Sake (from the Sake/Submission Hold split LP, Unnatural Disasters) and the Intima. Avant-poppers (way better than amyl nitrate poppers) Leti-Angel and conscious-poppers (way better than cream cheese jalapeno poppers) Ape Shape round this one out and make it the coolest bill of the week. And by "coolest," I mean better than cool, better than better, better than most anything! GRANT MORRIS

BX3 W/BILLY SHEEHAN, STU HAMM, JEFF BERLIN

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) So I was watching Farscape last night and tokin' back and dude, if I do say so myself, it was a sweet night. I finally got my new black light bulb, so my Jimi posters were lookin' super-sweet, and man, have you ever seen Farscape? People laugh at it 'cause they don't know, but I'll tell you right now, it's pret-ty tight. It's about this astronaut who goes to another galaxy that's filled with Muppets, and all the Muppets are all like "Welcome to our galaxy, dude!" and he's like "Whoa, this galaxy's filled with Muppets. Time for adventure!" It's a pretty amazing show, man. So anyway I was watching Farscape and just kickin' it back and then my buddy Rob comes over and Rob's all like "'Sup broseph, you hear about 'Bx3'?" And I was all like "What, man? Who's that?" Then I got paranoid 'cause I got the Farscape DVDs from Rob, so maybe it was like something he knew that I hadn't seen yet, right? Like some weird Muppet alien or something? So I was like "Oh, shit! Is that some other Muppet? Don't screw this up for me, man! This is muy importante." And Rob was all like "No, man, Bx3! It's like all the best bass players in the world playing one show! There's like Billy Sheehan and Jeff Berlin and Stu Hamm, and they're all playing together, and it's gonna be sweet." Well, right then, dude, I'll tell you right now, I had to turn Farscape off, for two reasons. Uno: I did not want to miss anything that that one bald blue chick said, 'cause I don't know what it is, but I've had a boner for bald chicks ever since that first Star Trek movie, right? Not like, leukemia chicks. Gross. But bald chicks? Don't look at me that way, bro. Just how I roll. And Numero Two: I had to perform a reality check for Rob pretty right-quick, 'cause shit was gettin' heavy and weird. Like remember when Meat Loaf did Bat Out of Hell II? Somebody should have stopped him before he did that. Been like, "Listen, 'Loaf. This is a bad idea." But nobody did, bro, and now look at what we have—Bat Out of Hell II. I rest my case, your honor. All Perry Mason and shit. Anyway, so I paused the 'Scape and was like "Rob, I think we need to talk." And Rob got all sketch, 'cause the last time we talked was an intervention or whatever, with like his creepy old lady aunt and shit, but I was like, "No, chill, man, here. Take a toke and let's just talk." So we did. And I was all like, "Don't ever mention the name of a bass player in my house, man. You know the rules." And he was like "This isn't even your house. This is your mom's basement." And I was like "Beside the point, Rob. Beside it. Now, remember on Appetite for Destruction, when Axl's all like 'Whoooa whoa hoa hoa sweet child o' miiii-ine,' and then Slash comes in with like 'Dweedle dweedle dweedle dwee dwee dwee dwee dwee da dwee da dwee deee deedle dee deeee?" And Rob was all like "Shit yeah, bro!" And I was like, "Who made that song so sweet, Rob?" And he was like "Axl!" And I was like, "And who else, Rob?" And he took another toke, which wasn't that cool cause it was gettin' pretty low but whatever, we're buds, and he was all like "Slash?" And I was like "Yes. And who played bass on that song, Rob?" And he didn't know. Because no one knows. And no one cares, dude! And I was like "Exactly, Rob. No one cares about bass players. It's about the greats: Satriani. Hendrix. Vai. Slash. Guitars, man. Bass players are useless, bro." And then Ron was all like, "But Seth. I play bass." And then I felt bad. Like, really bad. But on the upside, I got to turn Farscape back on. Finally. Film Editor Erik Henriksen's College Roommate, Stoner Guitarist Extraordinaire Seth

FRIDAY 1/26

BIRD COSTUMES, ACRE, PLANKTON WAT

(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) Listening to Daniel Osborne's Bird Costumes in the Fresh Pot on Hawthorne, house speakers blaring sort of early '60s girl group CD, the space between BC's notes filling up with Leslie Gore. BC's track "Food Hole" blasts my ears every few seconds, then returns to silence, keeping thoughts from moving, shifting, forming. Another explosion of noise, and I'm still reminded of "Harrison Bergeron." The bursts morph to full out roardrone and I wonder when it might stop but actually I'm hoping it won't. And then it does. And that's good, too. School yourself in three-bands-worth of Experimental Noise Wonderfulness 101 while soaking up Valentine's perfectly matched basement-show-without-the-washing-machine vibe. JW

THE HIGH VIOLETS, THE DIMES, PLEASE STEP OUT OF THE VEHICLE

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) So, I know Death Cab's Chris Walla lives in P-to-the-D-to-the-X but I'd definitely stop at calling Death Cab a Portland band. Good news, then, for local dudes the Dimes, who I hereby dub Portland's Death Cab. It's full-on immediate, forward-driving, post-emo (but not emo in any way, shape, or form) pop that would totally fit on The OC. (I hear The OC's getting canceled; maybe they need some Dimes-ian life blood.) My favorite thing about these guys is the small stuff—the little puddles of psychedelic lingering as songs end, the mid-song hand-claps that come outta nowhere but totally fit. Should jive incredibly well with the High Violets' grandiose acidhead cool and PSOOTV's junkyard psychedelia. GM

GRAY MATTERS, STEP COUSINS, CLOCKWERK, ONE & ONLY

(Hawthorne Theatre, 3862 SE Hawthorne) I've literally been waiting for the release of The Step Cousins' debut album for years. Every time a new track sneaks its way on to a setlist, my heart starts pounding, my palms get a little sweaty, and I think the release party is just around the corner. Then come the hiatuses and the lengthy delays, next the disappointing months with no release date, and finally the glimmer of hope I'm clutching at just fades away. Nonetheless, the combo of Xperience's soul baring rhymes and butter-smooth crooning with Macklemore's pointed-political jabs is just enough to keep me chomping at the bit for a little while longer. Seriously though guys, can we stop playing with my heartstrings and just drop a fucking EP? NOAH SANDERS

WARCRY, ROTTEN CADAVER, SELF ABUSE

(Laughing Horse Books, 12 NE 10th) Here's how rad the awesomely rad Rotten Cadaver is: (A) They're called Rotten Cadaver. An obvious one. (B) "Jesus" is one of their top friends on MySpace. (C) They have a member named "Insane," one called "Junior," another that goes by "C.S. Gass," and one named... Brian—who is, oddly, the punkest-looking dude of all of 'em. (D) They play punk rock that actually sounds like punk rock and doesn't eff around with artiness, "noise tangents," or anything trippy. (E) Did I mention they have a singer called "Insane"? Because they do! GM

MICHAEL ROE, MICHAEL PRITZL

(Urban Grind Coffee House, 2214 NE Oregon) There is a secret network of people who grew up in churches, disaffected and unsatisfied by the trappings of the faith of their parents, but who can't shake the idea that there's something to it. If they are of a certain age, they listened religiously to Michael Roe and Michael Pritzl. Roe is the former frontman of underground Christian post-punkers the 77s and a member of the alt-country Lost Dogs, Pritzl has long been the one-man force behind the Violet Burning, who are known for their thick guitars, fierce indie aesthetic, and—gasp!—use of profanity. Both men are masterful songwriters, important in both the dubious Christian scene they helped change for the better and the independent music world at large. JOEL HARTSE

EARL GREYHOUND, BLUE SKIES FOR BLACK HEARTS, GO FEVER

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Even among the fashionistas of Brooklyn, Earl Greyhound has the rocker look down pat. Guitarist Matt Whyte's pork chops and long locks sway with his low-slung Les Paul, bassist Kamara Thomas headbangs in a 'fro 'n' scarf combo to rival that of Hendrix, while python-armed drummer Big Ricc Sheridan pounds a bass drum the size of a dump-truck tire. Looks aside, it's the hooks that make these guys Brooklyn's heaviest rock band. On their debut disc, each Earl Greyhound track melts down a classic-rock block to pure magma, with strains of Zep, Sabbath, Thin Lizzy, Blue Cheer, and the Beatles bubbling up, yet never blatantly. ANDY BETA

SATURDAY 1/27

YACHT, THE JOGGERS, BODACIOUS BURLESQUE

(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) You know what feels good? When you choose a break from your indiepunk 'n' roll lifestyle to help other people. You know what's even better? Not having to choose! According to Bodacious Burlesque's producer, this show will benefit Rosalyn, a friend's child diagnosed with cancer—but even if you hate kids, you're still in for a treat! Laptop ass-kicker YACHT (AKA Jona of the Blow) is gonna pummel your soul with dope electropop beats of his own creation, the Joggers combine their smart-assery with good old rock 'n' roll, and the women of BB dress up their show with a sex-positive vibe sure to help you address your hang-ups (while they undress). JW

TRAGEDY, DEFECT DEFECT, THE ESTRANGED

(Gresham Grange Hall, 875 NE Division, Gresham) There's a rumble in Gresham tonight! Ringside seats for the neighborhood fight! There ain't a goddamn thing that the cops can do! There's a rumble in Gresham tonight! Yeah! Tonight those little punk bastards from Defect Defect take on Gresham (and the world) with legit punk tunes like "Yeah, I'm a Terrorist" and "Little Ways," both of which appear on their sweet 7" release on Clarence Thomas Records. Rumble, yo! GM

HAROLD VON KILLIAN'S NO-RING SIDESHOW & TRAVELING SPECTACULAR W/HEROES AND VILLAINS, MARCHFOURTH MARCHING BAND, TRASHCAN JOE

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Why go see another fuzz-pedal-drenched, tastefully dressed, boring old group of thirtysomethings, playing the same old Portland rock show, when you could go see THE CIRCUS? Harold Von Killian fills your marching band fix with Burning Man mainstays MarchFourth, hooks you up with some homemade-instrument old time music from Trashcan Joe, and mixes in local rockers Heroes and Villains, too. Lest you forget, this is a CIRCUS event—so be prepared for vaudeville, sideshow acts, and other by-gone big top chicanery. JW

OH DARLING, THE SLOW SIGNAL FADE, HERMAN JOLLY

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) Whether at the helm of dearly beloved Sunset Valley or on his own, Herman Jolly's expertly crafted pop tunes sound like the proverbial silver lining of a cloud, something we could all use this time of year. Odd and lovely, slow and steady, filled with yearning and melancholy, Jolly's songwriting garners favorable comparisons to Elliott Smith. If this sounds like your bag, or if you suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, or if you wanna see what the last generation of hipsters looks like now, be sure to catch this show featuring new material off Jolly's forthcoming release. The intimate Towne Lounge is the perfect place to see this mesmerizing performer cast his magic. VIVA LAS VEGAS

HEY LOVER, THE ANGRY ORTS, PLASMIC STALLION

(The Artistery, 4315 SE Division) If Mates of State were more like the White Stripes and if the White Stripes were more like the Ramones (and ABBA!) and harmonized like enthused angels, you'd have something approximating Hey Lover's pop garage wonderfulness. This lovely bit of local lovin' will make you glad you didn't die before they started making music. Yet another reason to be alive! GM

SUBTLE, PIGEON JOHN, BROKAW

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Man, what is it with Pigeon John? I was determined not to like dude from the jump—the Christian rap tag just gives me the screaming heebies—but goddammit if I didn't like Pigeon John Is Dating Your Sister despite myself. His goofy everyman schtick, talent for melody, and high vocal pitch recall the almighty Pharcyde, as well as his too rare ability to rap with a fully functioning sense of humor. 2006's ...And The Summertime Pool Party is easily his best work to date, crystallizing that easygoing end-of-summer West Coast vibe just so; repping Inglewood without aspiring to Mack 10 heights of hardness, PJ's wide-eyed Jack Tripper-like character is kinda hard to hate. And once I heard Pool Party's "Money Back Guarantee," which flips the Pixies' "Hey" to great effect, I officially stopped trying to. LARRY MIZELL JR.

KLEVELAND, THEE EMERGENCY, LKN

(Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy) Dude, I totally don't get why Kleveland's a Portland band. Their AC/DC-ish punk metal would do sizzlingly well anywhere else on Earth—'cept in this land of ironic beards, art noise, and indie cred chasing. For all intents and purposes, Kleveland's jock-rock is totally hated here in the town of Stumps. Place 'em down in San Diego, Austin, LA, New York—wherever—and they'd kick the city's ass. Here, folks are like—collectively—"CHEEEESY!" Shame. True. But a shame. LKN, though, ain't cheesy at all. She's a whirlwind of flying hair, tapping guitar solos, and dance moves that fit somewhere between Iggy and Axl—sans cheese. GM

SUNDAY 1/28

BENEFIT FOR SHANE ASBERY W/THE BATS FROM THE PYRAMIDS OF EGYPT, MY FAVORITE EVERYTHING, THE MELLO OUTS, MACADAM

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Dude, there comes a time when you gotta set down that bong, stop gazin' at your own pretty face in the mirror, and do something that benefits the peeps around you. Shane Asbery, bassist for locals My Favorite Everything, was recently diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma—which is a very, very heavy deal. Tonight, Shane's band and some well wishers (including the hot-shit Bats from the Pyramids of Egypt!) are getting together to help the guy out. I know it's hard to think about folks other than yourself, but just think, what if this was your boyfriend, your brother, or your husband? You'd want everybody to come out, right? You would. I would too. Totally go do your part and help a good man out. GM

CRYSTAL BALLROOM'S BIRTHDAY W/MENOMENA, THE AVETT BROTHERS, BINARY DOLLS, & MORE

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See Music, pg. 21.

THE GAME, MIMS, COOL NUTZ, SANDPEOPLE, DJ OG-ONE

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See Music, pg. 23.

VISIONARIES, SLEEP OF OLDOMINION W/ROCKET ONE, GREYSKULL, HANGER 10, BRAILLE, OHMEGA WATTS, ALEXIPHARMIC, PEGLEG

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) LA's indiehop collective Visionaries (DJ Rhettmatic, LMNO, 2Mex, Zen, Dannu, and KeyKool) are one of the West Coast's keynote cliques (even garnering a shout from Big Snoop Dogg on his newest album, not bad for a backpack crew), critically acclaimed, and almost universally beloved for their hopeful, hands-to-the-sky brand of hiphop. "We're some do-gooders," proudly proclaimed LMNO on their 2004 single "If You Can't Say Love"; it's only right then that they be spearheading the Save Darfur tour, raising awareness of the genocide in the Sudan and duckets for the Save Darfur Coalition. The Visionaries' newest, We Are the Ones (We've Been Waiting For), is an undeniable collection of up-with-the-people b-boy meditations, and as usual, a desperately needed breath of fresh air. In the words of Q-Tip, inhale. LMJ

TOI ET MOI VIDEO RELEASE W/SCREAM CLUB

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Olympia, WA is a small place, with a strange mix of academia, trash, art, politics, and homosexuality. Personifying that mix is Olympia's Scream Club—a duo made up of the emphatically gay Cindy Wonderful and the equally lesbionic Sarah Adorable. Scream Club are slated to throw down an ultra-queer, ultra-neon, ultra-DIY, ultra-entertaining emcee rap attack at Holocene, to celebrate the release of their "Toi et Moi" video—directed by Ali Cotterill. "Toi et Moi," apparently, is a "hot-pink fantasy world with dance offs and drag queens." Sound like your wet dreams? Scream Club's schtick is sex, electro-pop, new wave, crunk, and choreographed dance. Expect bizarre hair, and energetic beats. Expect nudity and feminism. Expect to feel comfortably uncomfortable. MATT DRISCOLL

MONDAY 1/29

WILL HOGE, THE DRAMS

(Lola's Room, 1332 W Burnside) Brent Best of the Drams was the main guy behind the band Slobberbone but then someone (his mom? neighbor? waitress at his favorite coffee shop?) told him that was the worst name they'd ever heard so he came up with a better one. Regardless of the names, Best is one of the, ummm... best (right up there with Rhett Miller of the Old 97's ) at coming up with heart-on-the-sleeve hooky anthems. Their latest record, Jubilee Dive, is a must hear, full of the kind of soaring anthems that Tom Petty used to come up with on a daily basis until, well, until he didn't anymore. I'm betting the Drams at Lola's Room will be a real street shaker. Will Hoge hails from Nashville and sorta fits into that new Dylan/Petty category too but then again, who hasn't been called the "new Dylan"!? TIM HINELY  

KEANE, ROCCO DELUCA

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See Once More with Feeling, pg. 39.

THE BETTER TO SEE YOU WITH, AMEN AGAIN AMEN, BEHALF, DJ NATE C

(Tube, 18 NW 3rd) There are a ton of local bands I have high hopes for, but I can't think of a record I'm anticipating more than the one that documents the Better to See You With's latest lineup. With Tina Fae Knutson's vocals (and "channeling" says their MySpace) and Nate Carson's keys added to Billy Holloway's drums and his brother Charlie's murderous guitar, these slayers have kicked Portland's head in numerous times. So what about the new material? Says Nate C, "We have posted recordings for the first time on MySpace. There is a live track from Children of the Revolution Fest, and a lo-fi rehearsal demo, and some video footage from COTR that ends with the camera girl being knocked the fuck over. Pretty exciting. We are slated to record a pro demo at WarAxe studio (engineered by Merlin Carson from Stovokor-my little brother) in mid-February. Hoping to go to SF in June to make a real album with Billy Anderson at the helm." Go check that shit out, then come to the show and prepare to get assassinated. ADAM GNADE

TUESDAY 1/30

THE GAY DECEIVERS, TEAM GINA, THE NEW BLOODS

(In Other Words, 8 NE Killingsworth) So, I'm thinking everything that's ever been written about the Gay Deceivers has probably riffed off their stupid name—so I ain't goin' there. (Though I think I already have in Mercs past. Oops-a-daisy!) Instead, let's talk music—awesome. So awesome. Metal guitar sometimes. Lesbionic love (emphasis on the "bionic.") Yoko Onisms (in a good way!) sometimes. Weird, dubbed-out, pop-scapes. Super-insane outsider-y avant song structure. Just go. Let your ears be the judge. And by "judge" I mean JUDY. Fuck that Wapner dude. Unless he's dead—then grave fuck him! Sorry; this band makes me think strange shit. GM

WEDNESDAY 1/31

, DAVINITY, TRASH HEAP, OZONE, J-KRONIC

(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) When I met Ozone, he wasn't Ozone, he was just another sports fan at a sports bar. He was drinking Sparks on the rocks. It was only later that I found out the dude I met at the bar was a rapper, and a proud member of the Battleship Records family. Battleship records was created in 2000 by Marc Petricciani (formerly of Revelations), with a goal of putting out the kind of music Battleship artists want to put out and providing a comfortable working environment for said artists to do just that. With a lineup including Santotzin, Ozone, Prologic, Concept Trinity, and others, Battleship has managed to put out some fairly decent hiphop, and in honesty, some fairly ridiculous hiphop. MD

LAURA GIBSON, BARK HIDE AND HORN, THE CAVE SINGERS, A WEATHER

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Laura Gibson makes folk music—not in the "strumming a banjo on a porch while Alan Lomax holds up a microphone" sense, but in the "more concerned with making pretty songs on acoustic instruments than with having a cool haircut and a synthesizer" sense. She seems unaffected by the buzz that surrounds hipster record-making in the Pacific Northwest, as does her music, which is a high compliment in this age of the who's-influencing-whom game. Her songs are slow and pretty, and she was just lauded by the New York Freaking Times, if that gives you some idea of where she's headed. Tonight's show is a homecoming after her West Coast tour. JH

THE MOLECULES, ETERNAL TAPESTRY, I RETARD

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) Chemistry 101 teaches us that molecules are formed by atoms bonding together. In Ron Anderson's universe, however, the atoms aren't nearly as agreeable—bumping and spinning off each other with unpredictable results. Anderson formed the first version of San Francisco's Molecules in 1990. The missing link between DNA and the Flying Luttenbachers, Molecules' caustic free-rock is like running through a musical minefield, each step likely to set off flurries of shrapnel or a chain reaction of rhythmic blowups. The band has laid dormant for 10 years, skipping out on the no-wave revival that would have cemented their well-deserved legacy. More power to them though, as this brand of kinetic skronk is infinitely more potent in the flesh than as a side-note in some brainy journalist's no-wave retrospective. JOSH BLANCHARD

ME CON

(Dunes, 1909 NE MLK) See Music, pg. 23.