THURSDAY 3/19

ARIEL PINK'S HAUNTED GRAFFITI,

CRYPTACIZE, LITTLE CLAW

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The thrill of listening to Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti often has less to do with the music itself than the illusion that you are unearthing a missing link in the history of pop: "Interesting Results" sounds like a lost side by legendary freakbeat band the Creation; "For Kate I Wait" conjures a spectral collaboration between Bryan Ferry and a corpse. It's Pink's ability to evoke everything from Philly soul to New Romanticism that has won him admirers among the bargain-bin cognoscenti. It's his inability to do it in tune that sends practically everyone else packing. ANDREW STOUT Also see My, What a Busy Week!

CELILO, THE PHYSICAL HEARTS,

THE WOOLWINES

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Celebrating the release of new album Bending Mirrors, Portland alt-country act Celilo draw forth songs that are gritty and mud-spattered, but always overlaid with a lush, sun-dappled ripeness. Songwriter and lead singer Sloan Martin's songs never impose or reach too far, but instead invite the listener halfway. With plucked acoustic guitar, sober piano, and whirring organ providing the backdrop to Martin's soulful voice and Tucker Jackson's lonesome pedal steel, Celilo evokes a no-nonsense pioneer mindset, but occasionally they get spooky, as on Bending Mirrors' stark, spindly "Donut Queen" or the hushed radiator glow of "Sirens of Metropolis," which steadily burns hotter until chunky guitar chords and synth strings let us know that we've crossed the border into a frontier that's not on the map. NED LANNAMANN

FRIDAY 3/20

THE BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE, THE FLAVOR CRYSTALS

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) For all those suckas who missed '60s psych rock the first time around, the Brian Jonestown Massacre present lovingly crafted facsimiles of the sunny end of that style's spectrum, with a few detours into its darker sectors—and some shoegaze maneuvers, for good measure. BJM leader Anton Newcombe is charismatic, aggro, and narcissistic enough to tilt the live experience into performance art/spectacular train wreck—or at least that was his standard operating procedure in previous years; don't know if this loose cannon messing with rock's canon is still firing bandmates mid-gig after the requisite fisticuffs. Whatever the case, you can expect expertly rendered paraphrases of the Velvet Underground, the Rolling Stones circa Their Satanic Majesties Request, the Byrds, Bob Dylan, Donovan, and dozens of Nuggets/Pebbles-y one-hit wonders—and perhaps an inter-group squabble or three. DAVE SEGAL Also see My, What a Busy Week!

RYLAND BOUCHARD, FRENCH QUARTER, EMPEROR X, HELL-KITE

(The Artistery, 4315 SE Division) Had Ryland Bouchard walked off into the pop music sunset back when his former outfit—the Robot Ate Me—called it quits in 2007, it would have been a worthy career: a handful of deeply respected recordings, some touring, and a fanbase whose sheer loyalty trumped its small size. But instead of going out with a murmur, Bouchard started hemorrhaging songs at a frightening rate, the result of which was last year's Seeds; a massive boxset compiled of four 7-inches, a CD, a DVD, a book of artwork, a T-shirt, a chunk of Bouchard's beard (this is a lie), and a tote bag (this is true). It's hard not to salute such ambition, especially since Seeds is loaded with wondrous lo-fi pop gems that follow the less-is-more template of the Microphones (circa The Glow Pt. 2), plus the wounded troubadour soul of Townes Van Zandt. Any man capable of such a treasure chest of material is surely worth your attention. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

BLUE HORNS, LEIGH MARBLE, THE WEATHER MACHINES

(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) Blue Horns are Portland's latest good-time guitar band, with jangly, peppy tunes that pick up where the Shaky Hands left off. They're pretty irresistible, so I'd recommend being front and center for their boisterous set. Opening the proceedings are the excellent the Weather Machines, who very well might be Portland's best power pop band, but rumor is they won't be ours for much longer; while lead Weather Machine Jason Ward has been busy completing the band's next record, significant other Weather Machine Ali DeMersseman has gone and gotten herself an urban planning degree. Since there is a surfeit of planners in this wonky city of ours, the two may pick up stakes for sunnier climes, bringing the contagiously giddy tunes of the Weather Machines with them as well as Ward's fine Tigers Against Crime record label. You should see 'em now, while you still can. NL

BAD WEATHER CALIFORNIA, WHITE FANG, DASH!

(The Wail, 5135 NE 42nd) Don't take Bad Weather California's name literally. First of all, they're from Denver, as their distinct Southwestern jam-band flair reveals. Secondly, their musical forecast is far from dismal. Song titles like "It's My Country, Too" and "New Religion" send out the storm warning for a potentially heavy-handed treatment of the political folk tradition. Fortunately, bandleader Chris Adolf channels his American angst into clouds of rollicking electric licks and rousing Rhodes, then churns out cheeky optimism for a better world. A jubilant chorus echoes his sentiments in what sounds like the singalong that starts when the potluck ends. As such, much more apt meteorology can be found in their website headline: "sunshine and guitars." BWC's first album, Young Punks, will be released by Portland's own States Records this spring, so it's fitting that they join real-life young punks White Fang on their trip through town. MARANDA BISH

DRUNKEN PRAYER, LOTUS ISLE,

GABE HASCALL

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Drunken Prayer have a brand-new live EP, which the duo of guitarist/vocalist Morgan St. Christopher and organist/pianist Miss Audra recorded with special guest Sam Henry on the drums. Appropriately enough, the EP is called Drunken Prayer...with Sam Henry and its six rollicking tracks were recorded live last summer in the parking lot of Centaur Guitar in NE Portland during one of the store's fabled Saturday matinee shows. Drunken Prayer are pretty much perfectly named; they play booze-drenched revival songs, a murky, spicy stew of gospel, blues, and cowpunk. With Sam Henry on the skins, the band becomes a fully operational rock band, and the EP captures the vital spontaneity of their shit-kicking live show. NL

SATURDAY 3/21

BRYAN FREE, DERBY, THE THOUGHTS

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See Music.

RUSKO, SPL, GENO COCHINO, RYAN ORGAN, ENDYKRYN

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

ELENI MANDELL, CHERVONA

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) It's an odd sensation to discover an artist on their seventh record. Where has Eleni Mandell been all these years? Or, more importantly, why did I take this long to come around? The Los Angeles pop singer's seventh album is Artificial Fire, a sultry assembly of grown-up love songs (proof that pop music is not exclusively a young person's game) that center on bare structure and her confident voice. It's the same route Aimee Mann has been traveling all these years (that comparison is given with much respect) since, like the former 'Til Tuesday singer, Mandell balances her indie-cred checkbook (pals with Nels Cline, side project with Becky Stark of Lavender Diamond) with music that begs to crossover to the mainstream without shedding its dignity. Proof of this comes in her breathy delivery on "Girls," an absolutely flawless Halley's Comet of a pop song that might actually take seven records to come about, but when it does, it's an experience worth cherishing. EAC

PHIL WEEKS, DJ MATT E STARR, TREVOR V, EASY CO.

(Groove Suite, 440 NW Glisan) The underground dance club/art gallery Pi-Rem is no more. The space is under new ownership, with a new name as well: Groove Suite. Instead of dwelling on the ill-advised moniker, let's focus on the positive: Their grand opening party features house music legend Phil Weeks. A true old-schooler, Weeks owns respected Paris-based record label Robsoul Recordings, and he maintains a sound and style from back in the day, preferring hardware production and DJ sets spun from vinyl. This grants him an especially warm and organic sound that elevates the deep house vibe. Even if house music isn't your mainstay, Weeks has the range and experience to keep just about any dance floor moving. AVA HEGEDUS

SO FRESH SO CLEAN: DJ WICKED, DJ MATT NELKIN, MIGHTY MOVES

(PSU's Smith Ballroom, 1825 SW Broadway) For all its talented emcees, DJs, and graff writers, Portland has something of a dearth of practitioners of that most-athletic element of hiphop: breakdancing. B-boys are few and far between here, but So Fresh, So Clean—a b-boy/b-girl battle straight out of the '80s—aims to gather Portland's breakers, mix them with those from outlying areas, shake them up like a snow globe, and watch the whole thing explode. That type of energy should flow freely during the ciphers with a dangerous DJ like Wicked on the wheels supplying the breaks. This looks to be one fun night, so show up early and don't forget your fuzzy Kangol. GRAHAM BAREY

DIRTY MARTINI, MCKINLEY

(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) McKinley, one of the three female singer/songwriters of Dirty Martini, has written a musical called Gracie and the Atom, which will be performed at Artists Repertory Theatre next season. She'll be performing some of the material at Dirty Martini's show tonight, and she'll be joined by cast members as well as the musicians who performed on McKinley's CD version of Gracie and the Atom. The musical is about a teenage Catholic schoolgirl who loses her father, and her attempts to regain communication with him through the twin magicks of mechanical physics and Catholic mysticism. The story was inspired by McKinley's discovery of a set of audiotape letters that her late father had recorded during Vietnam. She won't be the one singing these songs when the show is produced later this year, so tonight's your chance to hear Gracie's delicately emotional music as performed by its creator. NL

SUNDAY 3/22

THE TALLEST MAN ON EARTH

(Rontoms, 600 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!

DESTRUCTION, KRISIUN, MANTIC RITUAL

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) Bay Area thrash, get over yourself. German and Brazilian contributions to the unhinging of metal were just as stacked, from the apocalyptic war-crush of Kreator to the vomitous black death of (contentiously) Sepultura-affiliated Sarcófago. Tonight, both countries have dispatched veterans who uphold respective flavor. Germany's Destruction leapfrogged the punk-nasty Metallica tempo in the mid-'80s, adding a mouthful of flair that predated speedy English narrators Sabbat (to whom Cradle of Filth owe everything) by at least a year. Brazil's Krisiun arrived later—during death metal's reign—and have exercised the subgenre's point-blank attack into an atomic thunder that effectively transcends the often overwhelming death grunt. On the recent Southern Storm, Krisiun temporarily cease fire for a proper cover of Sepultura's US breakthrough "Refuse/Resist." It's a history lesson that deserves an audience. MIKE MEYER

MONDAY 3/23

HERMAN DUNE, LESSER LEWIS & THE TWIGS, DJ YETI

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music.

TUESDAY 3/24

WHITE MAGIC, MARIEE SIOUX

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) As the main vehicle for Mira Billotte—formerly of Quix*o*tic—White Magic specialize in piano-driven songs that are equal parts ethereal and haunting. Bookended by Billotte's deep and damning vocals, the band has continued to get better with age, with 2007's Dark Stars EP seeing the New York band evolve into something so unique it's no wonder their fans are both rabid and cultish. The fact that they are playing a proper venue is odd; their drugged-out psychedelic jams beg to be experienced in the middle of a forest, a cave, or somewhere in the desert underneath a blanket of stars. But even four walls and a roof could not prevent this show from being anything short of spectacular. ROB SIMONSEN Also see My, What a Busy Week!

RASPUTINA, RUBY THROAT

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) Rasputina, the long-running steampunk project of Melora Creager and two other musicians—all other members of this revolving door trio are little more than a cello and a pulse, so don't get too attached—has been spinning vivid yarns anchored to the Victorian era for the past 17 years. If they are not sold out of their original hand-packaged run of 30 copies, the band will be slinging copies of a limited release, The Willow Tree, that features "three home-recorded readings of the same basic composition but with differing versions that stem from 18th century Ireland, England, and the United States respectively." Well, lace up that corset and get ready for Rasputina to go medieval on your ass (in the nicest way possible). EAC

WEDNESDAY 3/25

BLACK MOUNTAIN, THE SADIES

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

THEY LIVE, CAVES, DJ NIGHTSCHOOL

(Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) Named after the finest cinematic work of master thespian Rowdy Roddy Piper, They Live are the hotshit Seattle duo of Cancer Rising emcee Gatsby (Larry Mizell Jr., who also has been known to write for this paper from time to time), and Mash Hall's rhymer/producer Bruce Illest. The Emerald City supergroup balances a pair of freewheeling emcees with a penchant for finishing each other's lines, and lyrics that gently cradle the emotional fragility of the human condition. Okay, that last part was a lie: They Live rap about weed... like there is anything else in this life worth rhyming about. EAC