The Stranger

Plunge yourself back into the year that brought NAFTA and the clubbing of Nancy Kerrigan with the creators of 1994's greatest records: Pavement (whose Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain was as good as anything they ever did) and Hole (whose Live Through This is the crowning achievement of Courtney Love's entire existence). Courtney & Co. will hit Bumbershoot with a 75-minute set that could be a complete fucking disaster, while Pavement rock the Paramount with a full set guaranteed to be ravishingly ramshackle. (Pavement at the Paramount, 911 Pine St, 682-1414, 8 pm, $32, all ages; Hole at Bumbershoot, Memorial Stadium, Seattle Center, 7:30 pm, $40, all ages) by David Schmader

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Shelter Lounge is Ballard's stylish bar-with-food that won my heart with its ridiculous appetizers. The Avocado Fries ($6) are panko-breaded-and-deep-fried avocado slices that will make you swoon, while the PB&J Jalapeño Poppers ($7) defy logic by being the opposite of disgusting. They're fresh, panko-breaded jalapeños stuffed with cream cheese and peanut butter (?!?) and served with a sweet-and-spicy pepper jelly. Neither dish is anything you want tons of, but nibbling with drinky friends is perfect. (Plus, during happy hour—daily 4–6 pm—appetizers get cheap.) (Shelter Lounge, 4910 Leary Ave NW, 829-8568, 4 pm–1:30 am) by David Schmader

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It's hard to praise William Gibson without sounding like an old geezer: "Way back in the 1980s, he predicted the internet! And he invented cyberpunk! You know, like that Johnny Mnemonic movie with the Keanu Reeves?" His newest book, Zero History, concludes the modern-day trilogy he began with 2003's Pattern Recognition, a thriller about a marketing consultant who is allergic to advertising. Gibson's still telling us what we're going to be doing the day after tomorrow, and he's doing the best work of his career at the same time. Show some goddamned respect. (University Village Barnes & Noble, 2675 NE University Village St, 517-4107, 7 pm, free) by Paul Constant

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Dr. John (aka Mac Rebennack) is one of the coolest Caucasians ever. This gravel-voiced ivory-tickler is a veritable New Orleans music-history lesson, filtering blues, jazz, soul, and funk into earthy, hearty compositions that also serve as monuments to his audacious personality. The Night Tripper's in town for a six-night run supporting his latest album, Tribal, but let's hope he also dips into his swampy, Creole-delic classic, Gris-Gris. "Walk on Gilded Splinters" to this show, if you have to. (Jazz Alley, 2033 Sixth Ave, 441-9729, 7:30 pm, $30.50, all ages) by Dave Segal

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This art show is at a nursing home. The 2010 Stranger Genius in Visual Art, Susie Lee, first got to know the residents. She then asked them to pose for video portraits—each portrait is a reenactment of a Goya "black" painting, the ones found on the walls of his home after his death. Lee turned the camera on each subject for a half hour, and the portraits are the results of that real slice of time: no edits, no second takes. Visitors have mistaken the framed videos for live feeds from the rooms; residents wheel up and watch themselves for hours. Still Lives is quietly epic. (Washington Care Center, 2821 S Walden St, 725-2800, 8 am–7:30 pm, free) by Jen Graves

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Adam Carolla is not a standup comic. His physicality is awkward, his voice grates, and bleeding hearts will disagree with lots and lots of the things he says. But Adam Carolla is a genius. I would rather listen to Adam Carolla talk (about anything, about nothing, about things that offend me, about things I'd never thought to articulate) than pretty much anyone else in the world. His live shows open with an audience-participation segment ("What Can't Adam Complain About?"—answer: nothing), followed by a whole bunch of Adam Carolla talking. His body will, no doubt, be awkward. But his brain is a treasure. (Moore Theatre, 877-784-4849, 8 pm, $28–$48) by Lindy West

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