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