(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) Read our article on White Lung.

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) The funky, funky soul of Charles Bradley may sound sweet now, but they were hard won from years of homelessness and scrambling from job to job. Now paired with the heavy horns of the Menahan Street Band, Bradley is spreading his danceable James Brown-influenced music to the world—and we are all the better for it. WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY

(Rose Garden, 1 Center Ct) Well, this is almost a really good bill... almost. You can't throw darts at the great M83 or Tegan and Sara. The former are still riding high upon their masterwork, the double album Hurry Up, We're Dreaming, which still sounds as ravishing as it did a year ago. They've become an excellent live band, to boot. And Canadian sisters Tegan and Sara have continued their surprising but effective growth from indie mope-folk to purveyors of the purest synthesized pop. The twins' latest injection, "Closer," from their forthcoming album Heartthrob, is that perfect wave of nostalgia and pop, a song that surely will soundtrack movies made years in the future about this current decade. But terror lurks in the latter third of this bill: Vegas-concocted rock-star simulators the Killers. Perhaps the single greatest insult foisted upon the mainstream pop-rock listening audience at large since Milli Vanilli, the Killers have painted well inside the lines at every turn (even their name is brain-slappingly obvious), and in the process have stripped away everything that's vital and original and imaginative about rock 'n' roll. For some reason, it's paid them handsomely. Oh, so you liked that one "Mr. Brightside" song? That's nice. That was nearly a decade ago. Since then, the Killers have left behind a long, non-biodegradable vortex of junk, the musical equivalent of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Get to this show early, then get the fuck out. NED LANNAMANN

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Iceland, a country with a population about one-seventh of the Portland metro area's, has a rich musical tradition, often described on the world stage as challenging, eccentric, and chilly sounding—a sonic reflection of a bizarre and sparsely populated landscape. Now, Of Monsters and Men have rebelled against their compatriots and made an album that's the opposite. Accessible, warm, and uplifting, My Head Is an Animal has been out since April in the US, but it's already the highest charting album by any Icelandic band in history. Helmed by 23-year-old co-singer/guitarist Nanna BryndÍs HilmarsdÓttir, Of Monsters and Men makes feel-good folk pop with lots of instruments and sing-along choruses, like a more northerly Mumford and Sons. You know "Little Talks," that hooky song with the male/female vocal and the rousing trumpet that you hear, yes, every single time you enter a grocery store. REBECCA WILSON

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) David Wax Museum is actually led by a guy named David Wax. The name is not nearly as creative as some of the band's instrumentation, which includes a percussive instrument made with a donkey jawbone and knitting needles that drum on fiddle strings. That's only part of what makes David Wax Museum more interesting than your average folk band. For the past few years, DWM has incorporated traditional Mexican music and American folk into a less cleverly named hybrid called "Mexo-Americana." David Wax Museum resisdes in Boston, but sounds right at home on NPR and would fare well among the folkies in Portland. It's warm and cuddly music, and there's not a damn thing wrong with that. MARK LORE

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) In 1973, the Band released a passion project, an album of covers of their favorite blues and R&B songs called Moondog Matinee. It's not their best or most beloved album, but it speaks to the importance of musicians being music fans. There is a maturity and a humility that's the result of looking backward and around, and it's something that the Moondoggies have. And yes, they sound not unlike the Band. Though their 2010 album Tidelands is full of back-porch atmospherics, the ambitious songwriting and dark undertones make for lots of quietly shocking moments. The occasional organ sob of a keyboard ("Can't Be in the Middle") is affecting without ever being heavy-handed—not something the organ is known for. And, with his world-wise phrasing, Kevin Murphy sounds like the hobo mentor you'd turn to for advice if you ever found yourself inhabiting a boxcar. RW