KIMYA DAWSON (Liberty Hall, 311 N Ivy) Kimya Dawson, an anti-folker perhaps best known as one-half of the Moldy Peaches, defines dichotomy. Her songs are childishly, nakedly honest, yet resonant with some of the most adultish words around--words like Love, Fuck, Crack, and Brave. She gives her song-poetry from center stage, accompanied by her guitar, a rich yowl, and (sometimes) daisy-print socks. Like her knuckles, which read "Laff Loud," Dawson's songs mix scars with hope and comedy in a way that simultaneously shocks and heals. MAIREAD CASE

HIGH VIOLETS, DURANGO PARK, THE UPSIDEDOWN (Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) The High Violets are a bit like a concept car. Their vision of tomorrow is remarkably streamlined and striking, though their willful disregard for prevailing tastes makes it unlikely that such a vehicle will ever see mass production. However, for those seeking a glimpse into an alternate reality, the lush dreamscapes the band delivers on 44 Down (Reverb Records) should provide a pleasing departure from more mundane modes of transportation. At first glance a bit more utilitarian, Durango Park's multi-layered guitar and keyboard attack, coupled with warm vocal harmonies, transforms their otherwise ordinary country rock into the sonic equivalent of space travel in a pickup truck. Though paced deliberately, their music climaxes in a heavenly fusion of rust and stardust. KIP BERMAN

MENOMENA, THE NATIONAL, TALKDEMONIC (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See CD Review, pg 21


SLIGHTLY STOOPID, FISHBONE, BEAUTIFUL GIRLS (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Über-Californians Slightly Stoopid got their start as 16-year-olds, back when Sublime was hot shit and still 100% alive. Now, the duo of Miles Doughty and Kyle McDonald are in their ripe, old mid-20s, and seem to be flexing a bit more social conscience. The message seems to be that if everyone just smoked pot, kicked back, and maybe surfed a little, we'd have a lot less problems in this shitty world--and that's not so bad considering it's coming from two reggae-loving white dudes with neck beards and the worst band name in the history of human civilization. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS


BUILT TO SPILL, APE SHAPE (Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Last time I saw Built to Spill at the Crystal I seriously almost got flattened by a car on my way to the club, then spent two hours panicking about my near death experience through a pretty damn boring show. Granted, on other occasions I've absolutely adored BTS, but last time it was a real phoned-in snoozer, and I couldn't help but resent the show for having nearly been the impetus for my death. If you're on the fence, though, I should mention, the jazzy, spazzed-out, many-membered Portland band Ape Shape is opening, and they're a damn good time--especially if you're one of those maniac jam band dancers. Oh also, if a sign clearly states you should not cross the highway exit--really, don't cross. KATIE SHIMER

DOVES (Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) When Doves first appeared on the American rock radar, it was as part of that crop of late '90s British bands living in a certain band's very long shadow. But where their contemporaries of that period (like Coldplay and Travis) were just clones of middle-period Radiohead without the interesting parts, Doves had musical invention to spare. Their new album, Some Cities, bears this out handily, with rhythmic and melodic grace and power that would (or should) put their more famous counterparts to shame. This show is a do-over after the canceled Aladdin appearance from a month or so ago. Here's hoping they make it this time, in every sense. SEAN NELSON


HOTT PINK, LE PUSH, KOTO Y SOTO, DJ REX PARKA (Acme, SE 8th & Main) Hott Pink is an electro collaboration between local musicians Dampkrane and dizzystarhouse, so if you like either of those dudes, you'll like this. And even if you don't know shit about those dudes, this is a night of goofy hipsterdom at its finest at the new best bar in Portland, which gives this event the double thumbs up. KS

MEAT BEAT MANIFESTO, DUB TRIO (Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Meat Beat Manifesto has changed a lot over the years, and not always in a good way. Still, their latest incarnation is pretty rad--mostly. Their new rec, At The Center, is bop jazz with flute as the lead instrument and laptops reconfiguring its elements. When it's on, it's like the guy from Jethro Tull covering Charlie Parker songs and getting paid in beautiful, white mountains of coke. But when it ain't, it sounds like a 10-year-old Asian flutist backed by a pasty, virginal, Matrix-obsessed hacker lit by the blue glow of his Mac, tweaking shit into a wacky, weirdo bouillabaisse. Bouillabaisse, if you don't know, is seafood soup, and it's fucking disgusting. ADAM GNADE


TRAUMA LE TRON, ROLLERBALL, ESCAPE FROM KEYBOARD ISLAND (Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Place) Ex-Bellinghamites (is that what you call them?) Trauma Le Tron have managed to take a licking and keep on ticking, becoming more active than ever after the dissolution of their former projects, the excellent Reeks and The Wrecks and Spooky Dance Band. The band is consistently stirring up a ghostly cauldron of violin based soundscapes, cavernous drum machines, and twangy horror-flick guitar lines. While largely instrumental, singer Beth's goth-tinged vocals fit well, adding additional ambience that doesn't detract from the band's dark hypnotism. JOSH BLANCHARD


HEADPHONES, CRYSTAL SKULLS, THINK AIRBAG (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See Music, pg 23

J-LIVE, VAST AIRE, C-RAYZ WALZ, DJ KEZ (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See Music, pg 23

PLANTS, 2% MAJESTY, TUNNELS, JUANITA SINGERS (The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) Take your favorite bike punk lover out for a beer tonight at one of Portland's bicyclist heavy drinking holes, and get all romantic with 2% Majesty. The duo of violin and guitar can go retro dance style or soft and acoustic, depending on, uh, which gear they're in. Either way, it's a good opportunity to see what's going on at the suddenly-on-the-map-again Know, and what's coming out of the local culture it attracts. MARJORIE SKINNER


AQUEDUCT, EUGENE MIRMAN, BRENDON SMALL, LANGHORNE SLIM (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See Arts Rodeo Listings, pg 43, My, What a Busy Week! pg 19

SCRIBBLE JAM TOUR FEATURING BLUEPRINT, MR. DIBBS, GLUE, FREESTYLE SESSION B-BOYS (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Need a good hiphop primer for your clueless out-of-state in-laws? Well looky heah looky heah--we got Soul Position's vocal half (and topflight producer in his own right), the ever-erudite Blueprint, Atmosphere's "Dicknose Platypus" himself, the hardcore turntablist Mr. Dibbs, the buzzin' Chi-Town/Cincy group Glue (featuring Scribble battle champ Adeem), and the freakin' Freestyle Session B-Boys. Also check visual artists David Ellis and Kenji Hirata (Barnstormers) as well as the surely scorching MC battle prelims. The show is 21 and up but any rugrat can enter the battle (pre-register at Test your mettle, kid--you saucy enough? LARRY MIZELL, JR.


EISLEY, LOVEDRUG, PILOTDRIFT (Loveland, 320 SE 2nd Ave) As I mentioned last year or whenever the hell it was, Lovedrug is a fantastic band with a problematic name. Fortunately, it's the former quality that's attracting the attention of college radio stations, many of which have the Ohio youngsters' debut LP in rotation. Live, they combine some familiar elements (Death Cab and Sunny Day are both apparent influences) with the eternal glory of kids with an urgent desire to rock out. The singer has a beautiful voice, the band has serious skills, and their song "Rock 'n' roll" (which isn't even the best thing on the record) is a bona fide gem. SN

SYSTOL, NARWHAL, CONSTANTS (Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy Blvd) Gentle sea creature the Narwhal seems to be a popular vision in the band naming process right now, as a slew of narwhal related groups have begun to pop up around the nation. Portland's Narwhal, however, seems to be leaps and bounds ahead of their whale-inspired musical brethren. The fivesome compliments its proficient "turn-on-a-dime" rhythm section with horns, electronics, and lyrics about lucid dreaming. The group is at their best when bypassing their more standard songwriting pursuits in favor of tight indie-kraut grooves, recalling the best moments of bands like Moonshake and Folk Implosion. Systol's bland depresso rock doesn't hold up as well however, as they seem hell bent to invite their listeners to a mope-party that no one wants to go to. JB


DIRTY PROJECTORS, E*ROCK, WORLD, THE WIND UP BIRD (Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Huddled around a computer recently, a handful of friends and I watched the video for "I Will Truck,"--James Sumner's animated marvel to accompany the Dirty Projectors' song of the same name--for what was in most cases our third or fourth individual viewing. Transposing a two-dimensional Dirty Projectors frontman Dave Longstreth into an awe-inspiring digital world, the video swirls and spins like it's on a major label budget, with our hero battling birds and ninjas as he apes Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and The Matrix. As the five minute clip concluded, one member immediately left the room to record music, another expressed a desire to cause bodily harm to Dirty Projectors frontman Dave Longstreth, and the rest of us just felt bad about ourselves. That's how good it is. Experience Dirty Projectors' Getty Address in all of its nine-piece splendor--complete with video projections by Sumner--and prepare to battle your inferiority complex. ZAC PENNINGTON DREDG,

CIRCA SURVIVE, THE PALE PACIFIC (Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Dredg had the unlikely timing to be both too early (forming in the affluent Silicon Valley 'burbs in 1990, as mere high school students) and too late for metal's '90s chart-topping romp. Tonight they further prove their irrelevance (and baffle any of your friend's bands who still can't get a record deal) as they tour behind their forthcoming second Interscope disc. Burgeoning stars for the suddenly indefinable Equal Vision label (which started, almost exclusively, by issuing punk music as played by Hare Krishnas), suburban prog fans Circa Survive show up with the four-star reviews of their debut, Juturna, to carry the middle. Brings to mind the headiness and pretentiousness of the Mars Volta, only smaller, politer, and whiter. TREVOR KELLEY

ELECTRELANE, SHOPLIFTING, THE KINGDOM (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See Music, pg 21


DEICIDE, IMMOLATION, SKINLESS, MISERY INDEX, AND WITH PASSION (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) If Satan gave a flying fuck about death metal, Deicide would probably be his favorite band of all time. As if having songs called "Mad at God," "Fuck Your God," and "Blame It on God" weren't enough to score anyone a backstage pass to some kind of secret Luciferian security bunker, Deicide vocalist/bassist Glen Benton burned an inverted cross into his forehead just to make sure Beelzebub--and everyone else--got the message. In fact, he's had to redo the fucker like eight times since 1992 just to get it to take. Deicide's latest album, Scars of the Crucifix (Earache), carries on in the esh-aying solo/blast-beat clinic/cookie-monster vocal tradition of albums past, pissing through nine hellish screeds in 27 minutes. But as death-metal mercenaries go, Deicide are no joke--they've already sold well over a million albums to date, and Scars of the Crucix debuted at number 18 on Billboard's Independent Album Chart when it was released in 2004. Which makes for great press releases and news items on label websites, but doesn't really give you a feel for the Floridians' conviction as much as, say, the fact that Benton has an upside-down cross branded into his skull. J. BENNETT

THE HACIENDA BROTHERS (Duff's Garage, 1635 SE 7th) The Hacienda Brothers get to play not one but two nights at watering hole Duff's Garage--pretty good for a honky-tonk band performing inside the Portland city limits. Though if any honky-tonk band was deserving of such treatment it's this one--the Hacienda Brothers feature the soulful, Cash-like croon of Chris Gaffney of the Cold Hard Facts, and the extraordinary, soulful noodling of the Paladins' Dave Gonzalez on guitar. This is honky-tonk that even honky-tonk haters might come around to. JWS

THE WILLOWZ, EVENING AT THE BLACK HOUSE, THE TRAGIC NAKED ACCIDENT, MR PLOW (Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy Blvd) Young, fierce, and full of contempt for all that their hometown of Anaheim attempts to polish up real nice, the Willowz are the kind of music savants who'll crash your basement first, tune their instruments later, and still be plucking away unplugged on your back porch long past sun-up. Frontman Richie James Follin stutters, stalls, slurs, stops, starts, and wails his words, coloring the songs far outside the shaky melody lines, while the rest of the quartet revels in mastering stoned glam garage blues and flourishes of freeform experimentation. And yeah, there's all the stats in the Willowz's favor: They had a track in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind; director Michel Gondry was so smitten he directed the Willowz's first music video for nothing; infamous garage-rock label Sympathy for the Record Industry released their most recent records. But when you muddle '70s rock, '60s garage, and hope-to-die-promises to come undone on cue, you're still in the underbelly of this thing called the entertainment business. JENNIFER MAERZ