MATH THE BAND
It's the transition from playdates to nights out, but it's still leaving home on your bicycle. It's having convictions and something to say, maybe for the first time. It's credos like "Having a party every day/Teenage rock 'n' roll USA," but also "You're not gonna make it/Unless you really, really want to/Good enough isn't good enough." It's living like you've always got star power, invincible and changing colors. It's realizing that not everything an adult says is gospel, and it's feeling so young in a suburb that's barely any older than you. It's holding hands and fluttering hearts. It's bursting through the surface and hurling yourself into the sky. It's noisy, clumsy, staggering, and very difficult to control. It's thumbing your nose at anyone who tries to explain that this will pass, that it's only a mess of reckless abandon, energy, and hormones. It's never aspiring to be a cool older hipster with jaded anhedonia, and it's a steadfast belief that you'll (gulp) never sell out. It's shouting. It's always shouting. It's gonna be awesome. It's Math the Band. With local groups Corner Kick, Pitschouse, and Everybody Weekend. Hollow Earth Radio, 8 pm.
You might be right to wonder if we need any more bluesmen in the 21st century. The story goes that Reignwolf, aka Jordan Cook, first began establishing his dominion at the age of 5; a guitar prodigy, he reportedly held his own at clubs in his native Saskatoon, like some kind of crossroads blues changeling. Many pentatonic scales and growls later, Cook now calls Seattle home, and he certainly has his fair share of Northwest signifiers. You can see Jimi Hendrix in his gesticulating showmanship, and Soundgarden in his smoldering and incantatory guitar solos (along with an affinity for wearing all black). Reignwolf's sound doesn't pop like other scrappier blues/garage inspired outfits; it harks back to the guttural virtuosity of its fearsome past. With the Young Evils and the Grizzled Mighty. Neptune Theater, 9 pm, $16.