Thursday 5/15
Bobby Hutcherson Quartet, Nicholas Payton
(Jazz Alley) See Stranger Suggests, page 23.
Paul Baribeau, Led to Sea, Randy Nelson, Craig Salt Peters
(Dearborn on Woodland) See Stranger Suggests, page 23.
The Kills, the Childballads
(Neumo's) See preview, page 39.
To the Waves, Post Harbor, Helms Alee
(King Cobra) Jesse Fox has turned yet another project into gold. In the late-'90s, Fox was frontman for the urgent (and tragically underrated) local rock outfit Polecat. This decade he started Leuko, which was still on the heavy-guitar side of rock but with more memorable melodies and catchy choruses. As if he's not busy enough working as a firefighter and sitting in as the new drummer for the recently reunited Seaweed, now he's launched new band To the Waves. To the Waves' dynamic songs combine bursts of intensity that recall Polecat's turbulence with moments that melt into seas of dreamy, melancholy strings and piano. MEGAN SELING
El Perro del Mar, Lykke Li, Anna Ternheim
(Triple Door) There aren't many artists as well-suited to spring as El Perro del Mar—unless you count fellow Swede Lykke Li, who's joining her delicately voiced countrywoman on this tour. While Li has a slightly Feistian quirkiness underpinning her work, El Perro del Mar specializes in quiet, pastel-colored folk-pop that's as pretty and pure as a vase full of freshly picked daisies. Her latest album, From the Valley to the Stars, (out on local label the Control Group) is the sound of fragile tendrils of hope tentatively emerging after a long, frozen winter; that underlying melancholy serves to keep the songs from being overly precious. The bill is balanced by the autumnal, almost Nico-esque sounds of another Swede, Anna Ternheim. BARBARA MITCHELL
Friday 5/16
Clinic, Shearwater
(Neumo's) See Album Reviews, page 44.
(Showbox Sodo) See My Philosophy, page 47.
The Evaporators, Voodoo Organist, TacocaT, Science & Junk
(Funhouse) I will first and forever love Nardwuar the Human Serviette, frontman of Vancouver, BC, goof punks the Evaporators, as possibly the greatest interviewer punk rock has ever produced (sorry, Spiv). Like a (more) absurd and antagonistic Barbara Walters, Nardwuar assaults subjects ranging from Quiet Riot to Snoop Dogg with quick wit, a depth of pop-trivia knowledge that goes beyond dorky to just plain stupefying, and his signature "doot doola doot doo." Secondarily, I love Nardwuar and the Evaporators for providing the soundtrack for the one and only time I ever drunkenly made out in a mosh pit (my deepest apologies go out to everyone else who was at that year's Yo Yo a Go Go). Keep on rockin' the free world, Nardwuar. ERIC GRANDY
French Kicks, the Joggers, the Quiet Ones
(Chop Suey) French Kicks long ago shed the "NY garage band" image that was tacked onto them after emerging from a diverse music scene at the same time as the Strokes and the Walkmen, which is good news for everyone involved. Their fourth album, Swimming, was released digitally in April from Vagrant Records, with hard copies arriving in stores on May 20. Produced and mixed by the band, Swimming is held up by chiming guitars and showcases lead singer Nick Stumpf's pleasant croon; it is their proudest achievement to date. Portland's the Joggers, former labelmates of French Kicks, provide support. MATT GARMAN
Saturday 5/17
Miguel Migs, Petalpusher
(Chop Suey) See Bug in the Bassbin, page 49.
The Physics, Party Time, Phil in the Blank
(Sunset) See My Philosophy, page 47.
Portugal. The Man, Kay Kay and His Weathered Underground, Man Down Medic
(Kirkland Teen Union Building) See Underage, page 49.
Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, Port O'Brien
(Vera Project) I think I unfairly wrote off Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin back when they were blowing up the blogs a couple years ago. It was a cute name, but I just didn't have room on my record shelves for any more precious, verbose monikers at the time. My loss, then, because SSLYBY (that's not so bad) are one undeniably sunny, sweet indie-rock ensemble, all jangle and smiles and softly sighing choruses. It's not reinventing any of pop rock's well-worn wheels, but SSLYBY's gentle, often acoustic instrumentation, light harmonies, and rambling romantic lyricism are satisfying enough. Port O'Brien spend their summers on a fishing boat off Alaska, writing songs with titles like "Stuck on a Boat" and "Fisherman's Son" upon coming ashore. They make it sound pretty lonesome up there. ERIC GRANDY
The Posies, Preston School of Industry, Dear John Letters
(Neumo's) It's the Posies' 20th anniversary extravaganza. Singer/songwriter Jon Auer says, "We'll be playing stuff from every era. All five former Posies bass and drum alumni have agreed to play a couple of songs each. Preston School of Industry will be playing as well, which is quite exciting, and this will be the first appearance by Dear John Letters in quite some time." When asked how he arranges the song order, Auer replies, "I get 15 of my neighbors to come to Volunteer Park. I Sharpie the song titles on the front of their shirts, arrange them in a trapezoid, and throw lawn darts at them. Peculiar, I know, but it makes for a fresh set every time. The lawn dart only hurts for a second. It's like a shot." TRENT MOORMAN
(Funhouse) This local punk quartet haven't reinvented the wheel, but damned if they don't trick it out with all the excitement of a stoned, crafts-addled housewife wielding her first rhinestone applicator. Previous shows have seen the guys dressed in muumuus, grass skirts, and oversized bunny costumes; rumor has it they may build an onstage campsite for tonight's CD-release party. (Personally, we're holding out for them to get dolled up as the four food groups.) Full of compact, noisy, and hilarious sing-along originals, their long-awaited debut full-length, Steel Tigers of Death Proudly Present Steel Tigers of Death is right up there with vintage hard-rockin' goofballs like the Dickies and the Weirdoes; make sure to warm up your air-punching arm for the rollicking "Ape Suit" before the show. KURT B. REIGHLEY
Dead Meadow, the SubArachnoid Space, Whalebones, Patrol
(El CorazĂłn) Jeff Tweedy once stated that the 10-minute synthesizer drone at the end of Wilco's "Less than You Think" was inspired by the sensation leading up to one of his crippling migraines. It also represents the foreboding unease preceding a panic attack, another affliction plaguing Tweedy. While Portland's SubArachnoid Space has little in common with the Chicago post-Americana outfit, they manage to expound on the physical and mental anguish hinted at in Wilco's drone exercise. But rather than merely alluding to an impending bout of neurological disquiet, their caustic ballasts of nightmarish guitar howls and hallucinogenic live shows are the sonic equivalents of full-blown panic attacks and throbbing cranial pain. BRIAN COOK
Earth, Bronze Fawn, Japandroids, the Hunting Club
(UW Husky North Den) Dylan Carlson's recently reactivated drone stalwarts Earth unknowingly presaged a sludgy wave of hipster-approved stoned doom metal, most notably Earth disciples Sunn O))), with their bowel-rumbling '90s output. But since Earth's revivification, Carlson and his current crew have worked to distance themselves from their legacy, releasing albums marked by clean, even country-influenced guitars rather than heavily distorted crush, even going so far as to rerecord some old Earth songs in this new style. Their latest, The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull, continues along this path. One thing that hasn't changed, though, is the band's pace, which is sluggish, spacious, and hypnotic whether the band is mournfully acoustic or dangerously electrocuted. ERIC GRANDY
SUNDAY 5/18
Radar Bros., A Weather, Facts About Funerals
(Sunset) See Album Reviews, page 44.
Tokyo Police Club, Smoosh, We Barbarians
(Neumo's) After months of waiting, Tokyo Police Club finally released their debut full-length (and first release on Saddle Creek), Elephant Shell, in April and well... it doesn't quite live up to the expectations set by their early EPs. It's not a bad album really, but somewhere along the way, TPC's endearing rough edges were sanded away, leaving a smooth, poppy nugget where there was once a raw, post-punk-y slab. For their efforts they'll probably earn a few more soundtrack and TV spots, but fans of the unpolished TPC will have to make do with the band's live performances, which thankfully avoid having too much sheen. Instead, all of the promise of the band's early obsessions with dystopian robot takeovers remains intact, even when supplemented with new songs about tessellating broken hearts. DONTE PARKS
Was (Not Was), Courtney Jones
(Tractor) A decade before Massive Attack, Detroit dada funk-rockers Was (Not Was) honed the idea of interspersing regular vocalists with rotating guests to a (weird) science. Mitch Ryder, Ozzy Osbourne, Mel Tormé, and even Kim Basinger did a turn with the Was brothers at some point; on Boo!, their first album since 1992, Kris Kristofferson grumbles "Green Pills in the Dresser." Not that these luminaries are likely to drop by tonight. Who needs them? Especially when inimitable soul vocalists Sweet Pea Atkinson and Sir Harry Bowens are still up front. Yeah, the big hit "Walk the Dinosaur" is every bit as annoying as "Mah Nà Mah Nà ," but give them a pass for mutant disco oddities like "White People Can't Dance," a jam tailor-made for Ballard. KURT B. REIGHLEY
MONDAY 5/19
El-P, Dizzee Rascal
(Neumo's) See preview, page 37.
Langhorne Slim, Ferraby Lionheart
(Tractor) Rumors of the transcendent nature of Langhorne Slim's performances keep popping up in recent conversations. While his new self-titled album is on high rotation in my apartment, I haven't caught the young man in the live setting yet. But judging from videos posted online, there is validity to the buzz. Whether bearing his soul with suitable restraint on Letterman, or hollering sweaty and shirtless in a crowded Brooklyn apartment at 3:00 a.m., Langhorne is indeed a masterful performer. Cognizant of his environment and his audience, he seems equally capable of playing to drunken revelers and reserved Newport folkies. Who knows where the Tractor's audience will fall on that spectrum on this particular night, but Langhorne is gonna own it either way. BRIAN COOK
TUESDAY 5/20
Daguerreotypes, Blue Light Curtain, Red Sea Sharks
(King Cobra) Tonight, Daguerreotypes celebrate the release of their new EP, Tropical Trust, which has a bunch of animals doing dirty things to one another on the cover—a toucan-like bird is eating a sloth's asshole, a gorilla is butt-fucking a turtle, a beaver is sucking off a mountain goat—and in the center of it all there's a line drawing of Jesus. Because why the hell not, right? Daguerreotypes' music is jarring in its own way. Their folk-rock spine twists with both psychedelic and experimental influences. Singer John Fitzsimmons's voice sounds almost muppetish on songs like "Telegram to Tegucigalpa" and "Dark Fence," but it weirdly falls into place amidst an orchestra of "instruments" like a frying pan, an electric toothbrush, and a bottle. MEGAN SELING
WEDNESDAY 5/21
Blowfly, ANTiSEEN, Three Legged Dog, KingDRO
(Funhouse) Whose idea was it to pair Blowfly—the self-proclaimed "original dirty rapper" and "world's baddest nigga"—with Southern white-trash punks ANTiSEEN? Whoever it was, he deserves a raise. While he is a respected soul songwriter under his given name, Clarence Reid, Blowfly is nonetheless responsible for some of the filthiest, funniest, R-rated funk ever laid to wax. His current band includes ex-Fishbone bassist Norwood Fisher, and his most recent album, 2006's Punk Rock Party (Alternative Tentacles), includes "charming" remakes of songs by Devo ("Suck It"), the Clash ("Should I Fuck This Big Fat Ho?"), and others. ANTiSEEN has done some unlikely covers themselves over the years (Curtis Mayfield? Roky Erikson?), but they're better known for singer Jeff Clayton's reckless, self-bloodying stage antics. WILL YORK
