THURSDAY 1/27
DR. DEMENTO
(Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock) See My, What a Busy Week!
INTO THE WOODS ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY: TU FAWNING, SKELETRON, AND AND AND, GUANTANAMO BAYWATCH, DJ SNAKKS
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!
HIVES INQUIRY SQUAD
(Mt. Tabor Theater, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Read about Hives Inquiry Squad.
BIG BLACK CLOUD, HORNET LEG, DRUNK DAD
(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) Tonight we celebrate the two-year anniversary of local grime purveyors Stankhouse Records by welcoming a new band into the fold. Label mainstays Big Black Cloud and friends Hornet Leg will be joined by Drunk Dad, a band so fresh they have no recordings or established media outlets. Their live show is becoming known for its insanity—this reviewer remembers it through an alcohol-infused haze as a face-melting shitstorm of sludgy noise. The three dudes behind the instruments create an audible onslaught that seems as if its goal is to eradicate silence from the world forever, and with Stankhouse around, we can count on them capturing that mayhem on vinyl. Here's to the beautiful, fucked-up future. MARANDA BISH
LED TO SEA, SOLVENTS, NICK CACERES
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Listening to Led to Sea—the solo project of violist Alex Guy—evokes the enduring eerie beauty of the Pacific Northwest; you are lost in a brilliant sunset over the ocean, yet aware of the shadows that lurk in the old-growth forest behind you. Guy's playful and inviting voice dances with the versatility of the viola—shining with the crisp brightness of the violin and reaching the stirring depths of the cello—as she moves through romantic classical to dissonant experimental to toe-tapping folk. Guy has toured with Mirah and Jason Webley, and played with modern punk-jazz orchestra Degenerate Art Ensemble, and it shows; her latest album, Into the Darkening Sky, contains traces of these Northwest staples. Tonight's show is your last chance to catch Led to Sea before her European tour with Laura Veirs. JESSE VERNON
BILL COONES & LARRY ADAIR
(Mama Maria's, 5234 SE Powell) Larry Adair is a Portland jazz legend, a part of the scene for over 20 years. Whether solo or accompanying Bill Coones' bass fiddle, the man is hypnotic on the jazz guitar, with a playing style that's economical yet complex, showing off on the sly as if he doesn't want you to notice. Arpeggios and surprise chord inversions spring out of his earthy, easy jazz playing like sparks on a live wire. When he really loses himself in the playing, Adair starts humming the solo while he makes it up. It's an intimate, involuntary reaction that tightens the gap between both the player and his guitar and the performer and his audience. DAVE BOW
THE EX-GIRLFRIENDS CLUB, THE SHIVAS, SEXY WATER SPIDERS, HOLY CHILDREN
(Backspace, 115 NW 5th) Deceptively, there are no girls in the Ex-Girlfriends Club. There are, however, men who would seem to enjoy the shock value that such a name provokes. The band members adopt alter egos such as "Albatross" and "Action Lord" as they perform their throwback glam rock, striking me as the kind of group that will be playing Iggy Pop tribute shows long after the man is dead and they are past their prime. Until then, we can count on bands like the Ex-Girlfriends Club to uphold the tradition of performing shirtless and acting is if the '70s never ended. Their crunchy, slithering sex songs are like cocaine and mirrors for the ears. MB
FRIDAY 1/28
DR. DEMENTO
(Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock) See My, What a Busy Week!
THE GHOST OF A SABER TOOTH TIGER, LAURA GIBSON
(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) Read about the Ghost of a Saber Tooth Tiger.
PORTLAND MUSIC AWARDS
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) I could start on the cover and finish on the back page of this very paper and I'd still not have enough room to make my case against the Portland Music Awards. Here's the heavily abridged version: If you care about Portland music in any form, do not set foot inside the Crystal Ballroom tonight. The Portland Music Awards are an absolute con—there are Nigerian email schemes more trustworthy—masterminded by the clownish voice of failed rag Music Spectator, Craig Marquardo. One-time headliners Smash Mouth (not local) seemed to have vanished from the bill, meaning that even the worst band on the planet was embarrassed to be a part of this atrocity. While some musicians are blinded by the gilded veneer of a possible award for their talents—it's true, being a musician can be tough—the Portland Music Awards are not the answer. Do it because you love it, not for the opportunity to take home a useless trophy from some bullshit award show with zero credibility. EZRA ACE CARAEFF
THE THERMALS, GUIDANCE COUNSELOR, WAMPIRE
(Branx, 320 SE 2nd) The Thermals continue to employ the ol' work-hard/play-hard philosophy by performing shows at a furious clip and pulling from what seems like an endless bag of three-minute power pop ditties (all while maintaining their girlish figures and boyish good looks). They're a rock 'n' roll machine, in the truest sense. And whether vocalist/guitarist Hutch Harris is lashing out at Bible-thumping neocons or former lovers, it's always couched in a pristine pop melody. While their last two releases have shown a slightly more cuddly side to the trio, live the Thermals are just as hyperactive as they've ever been. Which is why everyone and their mothers go to Thermals shows. That, and they're a fucking blast. Tonight's your chance to give 'em a hot and sweaty sendoff before they head across the pond for a month. MARK LORE
GRACE POTTER AND THE NOCTURNALS, CHAMBERLIN
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 SE Russell) One doesn't really expect Vermont to be a hotbed of musical creativity. The austere and inventive folk reinterpretations of Sam Amidon and Mountain Man aside, the home state of Phish has spawned schools of noodly Phish wannabes, and little else. This theory applies to the Starbucks-groove of fellow Green Mountain Staters Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, a group of classic-rock retreads who look fantastic and sound totally familiar and uninteresting. (Lenny Kravitz fans probably love 'em.) After a few years twirling around the granola-jam circuit, Potter and the Nocturnals have mussed up their hair and glammed up their sound for a shot at the rock 'n' roll brass ring with 2010's self-titled record. At this point I wouldn't bet against them. For something a little more lasting, though, look to openers (and fellow Vermonters) Chamberlin, whose Bitter Blood is a heartfelt, skyscraping, lite-rock effort that's deep in maple-water sincerity and generally sounds fine. NED LANNAMANN
DERBY, RAVISHERS, CURTAINS FOR YOU
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) As far as I'm concerned, Derby won the National Championship. As the entire state of Oregon watched the Ducks football team forget how to make sure Michael Dyer touched the ground, the local popsters in Derby had their music heard by roughly 27 million football fans via a Ford SUV commercial that licensed their bouncy tune "If Ever There's a Reason" (from 2008's Posters Fade). Tonight the band will be debuting their Madeline EP, a two-song 7-inch accompanied by a digital EP with two additional songs. It's a strong release—Nick Fairley strong—with four songs that build on the momentum of the upbeat A-side single, "Don't Believe in You." Free Ford SUVs for the first 200 people in attendance. EAC
WHISKEY PARTY & SONGWRITER SHOWCASE: EZZA ROSE, NATE CLARK, MEGAN SPEAR, DUSTIN RUTH, JAMES MCFARLAND, SHAWN LAWSON FREEMAN, ED THANHOUSER
(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) Whiskey and acoustic music go together like Tango and Cash. It's fitting, then, that Someday Lounge is pouring $3 shots tonight from a handsome selection of whiskeys, while giving you the chance to listen to plucked efforts from a batch of Portland's most songwriterly folks. Like whiskey itself, there's room in these songs for giddy celebration and forlorn sadness, often at the same time. There's the unaffected, Western-town hymns of Ezza Rose, fresh off an opening slot for the legendary Loudon Wainwright III. Driven by her subtle but breathtaking voice, Rose's upcoming sophomore album is among 2011's most anticipated local releases. There's also Nate Clark, whose On the Stairs project just kicked off the year with the sterling, soul-flecked A Muted Dawn record. And there's plenty more, too—something for almost everyone, in fact. Almost everyone: Chardonnay drinkers, tonight is not your night. NL
SATURDAY 1/29
8 1/2 DJS: BEYONDADOUBT, LINGER AND QUIET, NATHAN DETROIT, COPY, ZAC ENO, NEW DADZ, SEX LIFE, JEFFREY JERUSALEM
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!
DR. DEMENTO
(Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock) See My, What a Busy Week!
TENNIS, DIRTY MITTENS, AIR WAVES
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Read about Tennis.
FORGETTERS, STREET EATERS, SOCIAL GRACES
(Branx, 320 SE 2nd) Read about Forgetters.
INTERPOL, SCHOOL OF SEVEN BELLS
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) I can distinctly remember the first time I heard Interpol. There was no outcry of Joy Division plagiarism (sorry, dudes, aside from the voice, I'm still not hearing it), no visual component to the band (the suits, the hair, DUDES, WHY THE HAIR?), just the bold, alluring cover of Turn on the Bright Lights and the hypnotic spin of "Untitled" and me at a listening station in the otherwise lifeless University District Cellophane Square (R.I.P.) in Seattle. Musically, it's still a great album, even if it's marred by subsequent revelations of the band's other-than-musical missteps, including what The Stranger's Michaelangelo Matos rightly noted as "the worst lyrics in rock music." Live, Interpol are competent if a little lackluster—or at least they were before Carlos Dengler left. Proceed at your own risk. GRANT BRISSEY
DAN LURIE
(Mississippi Pizza Pub, 3552 N Mississippi) Local singer/songwriter Dan Lurie went to Ohio University—not THE Ohio State University—in the late '90s, but it's only now that he returns to the Athens, Ohio, campus on Spirit of '98. A sparse bedroom recording of songs influenced by his college days, Spirit is hardly an Animal House ode to partying down—although booze is plentiful, most obviously on "Carlo Rossi," his salute to wine that gushes from a jug—nor is it an introspective look at lessons learned from wise leather-elbow-patched professors amid the fallen leaves of a sprawling campus. Instead Spirit is a very pleasant recording of sweet nostalgia, handholding romances, and the fleeting nature of youth, all capped by the remorseful voice of Lurie. Such sweet collegiate sentimentality makes me regret getting my degree in VCR repair through the mail. You lied to me, Sally Struthers. EAC
PURPLE RHINESTONE EAGLE, EMERALDSS, THE GUILD
(The Saratoga, 6910 N Interstate) There are few bands that command our affection like Purple Rhinestone Eagle, the trio of ladies responsible for the finest sludgy-sweet space-rock this town has to offer. Last year's full-length, The Great Return, is a bongward-gazing journey into the mind's inner eye, complete with fuzzed-out guitar, earthquake bass, and wrecking-ball drums, all hounded on by Andrea Genevieve's northern-wind wail. Seattle riffsters Emeraldss (the extra "s" is for "stoned out of your gourd") are cut from the same majestic cloth, with bold, brazen rock that's both oppressive and inspiring at the same time. Expect to have both eardrums rattled out of your skull by night's end. NL
THE TEZETA BAND, BROWNISH BLACK, DJ E3
(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) The stew of influences making up Brownish Black has a curious chemistry to it. Theirs is a ragged mix of old-school R&B soul and garage rock I didn't even know I was missing until I first heard them and realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard a good band in the tradition of Them or the Animals. It's sweaty and loose enough to be dynamic but formal enough that the chorus always follows the verse. It's a genuinely exciting thing to hear M.D. Sharbatz wrap his yelping, yearning voice around Vicki Porter's solid harmonies and belt like the '70s never happened. DB
SUNDAY 1/30
CRYSTAL BALLROOM 97TH BIRTHDAY: SALLIE FORD AND THE SOUND OUTSIDE, THE PARSON RED HEADS, ELIZABETH COOK, PANCAKE BREAKFAST, & MORE
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!
NELS CLINE SINGERS, YUKA HONDA
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Nels Cline is a shredder. It may seem a little strange to use a descriptive noun typically reserved for the show-pony rock 'n' roll set on a free-jazz guitarist, but if you've ever seen Cline belt it out with the vocal-free improvisations of his Singers, or if you've caught Wilco since the accomplished axman joined their ranks, then you know the man is a force to be reckoned with—a frenetic master of the fretboard. Cline occasionally forays into less traditional jazz mores, but as an accomplice of Thurston Moore and Mike Watt, Cline can be expected to inject a healthy dose of noise and distortion to the set. Satriani? Malmsteem? Whatever. Nels Cline is a true guitar god. BRIAN COOK
MONDAY 1/31
OCEAN AGE, LORD HURON, SEA BELL
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See My, What a Busy Week!
TUESDAY 2/1
THE GET UP KIDS, STEEL TRAIN, RIVER CITY EXTENSION
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) Read about the Get Up Kids.
UNDEROATH, THURSDAY, ANIMALS AS LEADERS, A SKYLIT DRIVE
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Christian metalcore darlings Underoath owe a big debt to Thursday. If it wasn't for the commercial success of Thursday's big "screamo" breakthrough album of 2001, Full Collapse, easing them into the sound, it's doubtful the palates of their thousands of obsessed fans would be so accepting of such noise. Remember, it was just two short years after the first big wave of mall screamo (not the real stuff, yo) that Underoath added a little sugar to their seven-minute-long blackened-metal-mosh anthems with "They're Only Chasing Safety," resulting in shorter and catchier songs that skyrocketed them to the cover of Alternative Press and the walls of adoring teenagers worldwide. While both bands are touring in support of new albums, it's these two records that will have the packed room of twentysomethings—including me—reminiscing on their failed high-school relationships and bad haircuts of yesteryear. KEVIN DIERS
REBECCA GATES, THE BLACK SWANS, ALINA HARDIN
(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) Let's be honest—folk music can be painfully boring. Columbus, Ohio's the Black Swans are just uncomfortably honest. The band—led by vocalist/guitarist/songwriter Jerry DeCicca—has made its living by putting all of our deepest Freudian thoughts on paper in front of a solemn Americana backdrop. The results are usually creepy, playful, smart, and at times... well, uncomfortable. It should come as no surprise, then, that the Black Swans' musical output has always touched on all things taboo (well, taboo here in America). 2006's Sex Brain EP needs no explanation. Their latest, Words Are Stupid, meditates on the accidental 2008 death of violinist Noel Sayre, who left behind a laptop filled with musical pieces that find their way onto the record. DeCicca's deep croak and the Swans' tensely sparse arrangements only add to whatever it is they're trying to get across. Live the band will keep your eyes glued to the stage—and hopefully squirming in your seat. ML
WEDNESDAY 2/2
THE BLOW, SONNY SMITH
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!
