The Stranger

Hollywood has never made a better alien-invasion film than 1953's The War of the Worlds. The creepy aliens (whose "faces" are just eerily lit tiles of primary colors) still inspire an uneasy blend of terror and awe in viewers, and the cinematic destruction—what did they do to the Eiffel Tower?—makes Independence Day's pixilated assaults look just plain silly. Forget about Transformers 2; this is the original Michael Bay extravaganza, even though it was filmed a dozen years before the birth of America's Biggest Directard. (Grand Illusion, 1403 NE 50th St, 523-3935. 7 and 9 pm, $8.) by Paul Constant

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The holy grail of chips and salsa has been located at Redwood on Capitol Hill. The chips are brought directly from the deep fryer, burning hot, plenty salty, with a squeeze of lime; they're entirely crispy, but they still have enough body that you know you're eating a tortilla. The salsa is pico de gallo–style, fresh and uncomplicated, made with organic tomatoes and onions and pickled jalapeños. Chips and salsa are not usually a thrill. These are shockingly, amazingly good. Your mouth will tell your brain that you're having a life-changing experience. (Redwood, 514 E Howell St, 329-1952. 4 pm–2 am, $4/$3 at happy hour, 21+.)

BETHANY JEAN CLEMENT

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Apparently, headliners Cowboy Junkies still have mad drawing power, as this show is sold out. Nevertheless, if you're near the zoo, cock an ear stageward when openers Son Volt appear. Singer/guitarist/pianist Jay Farrar's veteran group have just released American Central Dust, a beautifully expansive record that could charm even people like me, who usually say "nah" to Americana. Farrar's poignant, foghorn voice soars and chokes up bittersweetly over cosmic- and trad-country tunes of profound yearning and grandeur. (Woodland Park Zoo, 5500 Phinney Ave N, 548-2500. 6 pm, $22, all ages.) by Dave Segal

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Local hiphop duo Linda and Ron's Dad don't take much seriously (pun noted, gentlemen), but the music they make is seriously entertaining. Tyler Swan (of Truckasauras/Foscil) and Derek Bourcier realize that crate-digging is an art as integral to hiphop's infrastructure as dope rhymes. Bourcier's predilection for awesome, arcane breaks—and a ballsy willingness to sample major artists—conjoins with Swan's unerring rhythmic mastery, resulting in tracks that revivify funk: a hard task when you consider that funk is approaching middle age. (Chop Suey, 1325 E Madison St, 324-8000. 9 pm, $12 adv/$14 DOS, 21+.) by Dave Segal

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The Block Party boasts the best musical lineup of any summer festival in Seattle: from elders (avant-rockers Sonic Youth, pioneering provocateurs the Jesus Lizard, gentle guitar-giants Built to Spill) to young Turks (queered soul-punks Gossip, twee indie-popsters the Pains of Being Pure at Heart) to locals (stoned rappers They Live!, electronic monsters Truckasauras and Sleepy Eyes of Death) to so, so many more. Plus: vendors and a beer garden and tons of neighborhood bars and restaurants to escape to both in and around the festival grounds. It starts Friday. See the guide in this issue. (Twelfth Ave and E Pike St, www.capitolhillblockparty.com. Fri 3 pm/Sat 1 pm, $23 adv./$25 DOS/$42 adv. two-day pass, all ages/Neumos Stage 21+.) by Eric Grandy

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There are a number of BluWater Bistros strewn around town—Belltown, Lake Union, Green Lake—but the only one I care about is in Leschi, and the only reason I care is because of its lakefront locale and freakishly thrifty weekend brunch. On both Saturday and Sunday, $5 gets you a plate with two eggs and two pancakes, while mimosas and Bloody Marys are just $3. On a sunny day, it's the best cheap deal in town. (BluWater Bistro Leschi, 102 Lakeside Ave, 328-2233. 9 am–4 pm.) by David Schmader

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