THURSDAY 11/7


BRENDAN BENSON AND THE WELLFED BOYS, THE SCENE CREAMERS, THE LAWNMOWERS
(I-Spy) See preview, page 36.

NEKO CASE, JIM AND JENNIE AND THE PINETOPS, JESSE SYKES AND THE SWEET HEREAFTER
(Crocodile) Neko Case finally made the record I always hoped she would. Blacklisted is dark, taut, organically erotic country-noir executed with equal parts grace and guts. Critics consistently refer to her as a siren for good reason--it's pretty easy to envision flinging oneself at a sea cliff trying to get closer to that voice, particularly during her cover of Sylvia Dee and Guy Wood's stalker ballad "Look for Me (I'll Be Around)." She's now exhibiting the sort of growth and resilience shown only by artists who are destined to sound just as stunning 50 years from now. The only potential downside to this show is that there are scores of fans who agree with me, so it will be excruciatingly crowded. I recommend hitting the Thursday-night show to minimize the body crunch and to catch an equally seductive opening set from Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter. HANNAH LEVIN

THE DISMEMBERMENT PLAN, HOT HOT HEAT, ENGINE DOWN
(Graceland) Washington, D.C.'s Dismemberment Plan are the epitome of a band whose more hoity-toity fans refuse to call them emo (when Dismemberment Plan are the epitome of emo). Need more proof, chin strokers? They released a split EP with Juno. Also on the bill are Hot Hot Heat, who made the jump from Sub Pop to Warner Brothers in a nanosecond. The Canadian new-new-wave-sounding band's sole full-length Sob Pop release, Make Up the Breakdown (jointly produced by Jack Endino and Chris Walla), is better sounding than the band is live. It's okay, if you can get past the contrived "look." KATHLEEN WILSON

JOHN WESLEY HARDING, JOSH RITTER, CHRIS MILLS
(Tractor) One innocent preview made for two uncomfortable moments: I had debated in print whether John Wesley Harding or Mark Eitzel was the true raconteur among singer-songwriters. How was I to know that Wes (as he's known to friends) would move to town soon after the article was published--or that I'd wind up sitting in a booth with Eitzel, who had heard of the article and took offense that I declared Wes to be the real deal, edging out Eitzel only by his enthusiasm? Having now relocated to NYC, Wes will entertain audiences with songs from his new CD, Swings and Roundabouts, which is only available at shows or via his website (www.wesweb.net). The charming Josh Ritter, formerly of the Old 97's, and Illinois's Chris Mills (who just released his fourth album, Silver Line) are also on the bill. Mills fits in perfectly with this lineup; I've been a devoted fan since his 1996 release Every Night Fight for Your Life, which features the possessing "The Fresh Young Mouth." KATHLEEN WILSONFRIDAY 11/8


NEKO CASE, JIM AND JENNIE AND THE PINETOPS, PURTY MOUTH
(Crocodile) See Thursday's listing.

THE DISMEMBERMENT PLAN, HOT HOT HEAT, ENGINE DOWN
(Graceland) See Thursday's listing.

LOW, SONGS:OHIA, PAN AMERICAN
(Paradox) The last of the slowcore iconoclasts, Low trumps followers of lesser stature with an ever-expanding sense of urgent concentration. With deceptively fey delivery, their music is an experiment in the extreme, the result of their deliberate acuity proving consistently more immediate than any slash-and-burn front ever could. Given the remarkable acclaim 2001's Things We Lost in the Fire received, the Duluth trio's follow-up (the recently released Trust) faced the precarious position of impossible expectation--and while their latest outing never quite reaches the fluttering splendor of their last, it has more than a handful of moments with enough poetic and sonic ecstasy to literally cause my vision to blur. ZAC PENNINGTON

TOM LEYKIS
(Ballard Firehouse) Lord knows I don't know much about fashion (only that it doesn't exist except in the minds of slaves), and even less about fetishes (unless insecurity counts as a fetish, in which case I know plenty), but one thing I do know (and how) is obnoxious radio personalities. And Tom Leykis is the most revolting obnoxious radio personality currently available to Seattleites' ears. The thought of paying money to listen to him speak into a live microphone is like asking someone to pop zits into your mouth. To paraphrase the great Albert Brooks, the three worst kinds of human beings, in order, are incurable lepers, radio DJs, and curable lepers. SEAN NELSON

SICKO, DOLOUR, THE HIT
(Old Fire House) In the early- to mid-'90s, there were millions of bands that sounded like Sicko, and guess what: There still are. And guess what else: None of them were or are as good--no, great--as the great Sicko, the local trio that got sweet, melodic pop all jammed up in the gears of fast, hard punk rock. Though I still hold that their first LP, You Can Feel the Love in This Room (Empty, 1994), was their best, they made three more full-lengths, an odds-and-ends compilation, and a bunch of singles--every single one of which is worth a listen, but not one of which ever matched the hilarious infectiousness of their live show. Back together now for what one can only imagine is a limited time, Sicko remains the best news you've heard all week. SEAN NELSON

GUNS N' ROSES
(Tacoma Dome) I approach this show the same way I'd approach the ex who once had my complete devotion but from whom I haven't heard in years--with hope that we'll hit it off together, shadowed by a sinking feeling that maybe we've spent too long apart. It worries me that since Guns N' Roses' last big swing through this country, Axl fired the entire band, and that with all this talk of a new record, GN'R have nothing to show for themselves other than glitzy appearances in Brazil, Las Vegas, and other foreign lands. And Guns N' Roses' most recent performance on the MTV awards really worries me--Axl's hoarse squealing was so pathetic it made my stomach sink. But, as with any ex you refuse to give up on until you see 'em in a gutter, I can't pass up the chance to see if GN'R still retains any scuzzy, seedy, wrong-side-of-the-junkie-alley rock qualities that made me love them so much in the first place. JENNIFER MAERZ

SATURDAY 11/9


GLASSJAW, AMERICAN NOTHING, THE BLOOD BROTHERS
(Graceland, early) See preview, page 35.

LOW, DAMIEN JURADO AND GATHERED IN SONG, SONGS:OHIA
(Crocodile) See Friday's listing.

RYE COALITION, NEW MEXICANS, HEAVY JOHNSON TRIO
(Chop Suey) With a wry sense of humor winking at you through their song titles, New Jersey's Rye Coalition get math rock to tear off its pocket protectors and bring out its inner cock rock. The last time the band was in town they swung through Graceland, with frontman Ralph Cuseglio giving Les Savy Fav's Tim Harrington a run for his money in the punk-rock-aerobics arena. Manic, frantic, and completely unhinged, the RC members gut big, ballsy rock with a sharp Drive Like Jehu edge. This is brawny rock that's still got its brains, and the band's live shows are always lots of fun. JENNIFER MAERZ

JACKIE & THE CEDRICS, THE SATISFACTION, THE GO DEVILS
(The Sunset) Jackie & the Cedrics are HERE! Oh my... y'all remember the time when the Japan ruled the "learn to do the chick walk" surfin' twang school? WELL, if you missed it the first time, here is a toss back to easier times when shit still STOMPED... they WILL slay you! Promise. The Satisfaction (ex-Bomboras) are about the melodic garage pop... um, soon they'll be rightly known for playing like early Who and the later Flamin' Groovies anglo-luv style... and like lots of them '80s garage bands. MIKE NIPPER

MARK RAE, NUSPIRIT HELSINKI
(I-Spy) As the main force behind the inventive Grand Central label and half of the triphop-dub team Rae & Christian, Mark Rae has been threatening to release a proper solo record for the better part of a decade. Finally out this month, Rae Road spins on a much livelier edge than Rae's usual cool groove, kicking out more bouncy soul than stoned downtempo and indulging itself in a messy but impressively organic approach. Meanwhile, the Finnish collective Nuspirit Helsinki's self-titled record from earlier this year was a riot of tinkling jazz and surreal funk, lifting parts from Lalo Schifrin, Paulinho Da Costa, and Cut Chemist to create a dreamlike jazz-house hybrid. If that sounds like a diverse and potentially lethal combination for a Saturday-night dance floor, you couldn't be more right. Expect the crowd to be good-looking and dressed to kill at 10:00 p.m., and syrup-faced, buzzed, and disheveled by midnight. MATTHEW COOKE

GEORGE CLINTON, PARLIAMENT FUNKADELIC
(Northgate Theatre) Seeing as everyone knows who George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic are, I want to spend this space sketching out the band's political, economic, and geographical fantasies. In Parliament's zembla (Nabokovian for "imaginary country"), Chocolate City is the capital of One Nation Under a Groove, with Muhammad Ali as its president, Miss Aretha Franklin as its first lady, Richard Pryor as its minister of education, and Mr. Stevie Wonder as its secretary of fine arts. One Nation Under a Groove's national anthem is "Shit, Goddamn, Get off Your Ass and Jam," and its economy is supported by an impressive space program that makes and launches motherships. As The Onion once reported, the president of Parliament's land wants to "drop da bomb" on Iraq. CHARLES MUDEDE

REX HOBART AND THE MISERY BOYS, VIRGIL SHAW
(Tractor) Although Rex and his capable Kansas City posse play reverent, straightforward honky-tonk in the key of Buck, there's still some indefinable essence buried deep in these Bakersfield baubles that belies their hardcore punk past. Maybe it's the heartfelt sincerity or the snazzy outfits. Or maybe it's titles like "Let's Keep Lying Here" and "Take It Back (Before You Mean It)" that pay perfect homage to country music's fabled wordplay while pickling the proceedings even deeper in the sauce. I dunno--all I can say is that I somehow sense the duct tape tearing and the beer bottles shattering way down deep in the mix. And trust me, I mean that in the best possible way. TAMARA PARIS

DYSTOPIA, TARANTULA HAWK, TEEN CTHULHU
(Vera Project) In a war of the wills between speed and doom metal, Teen Cthulhu win for both sides. These local punks walk a fine line between horror (with songs about suicide and bloody thrones) and humor (the lyrics to "Fantastic Wound" repeat the words "totally" and "awesome" for five lines)--but that's only if you read their lyric sheet. Live, the band shreds faster than Enron execs called up to testify. Between the deep chugga-chugga rhythms of the songs, TJ Cowgill and Brandon Nakamura turn the art of singing into a contest to determine who can broadcast the sturdiest gale of vowel sounds, while Calvin Guthrie adds eerie science fictions on the keyboards. Definitely a band to check out both live and on their most recent record, Ride the Blade. JENNIFER MAERZ

SUNDAY 11/10


HOT CLUB OF COWTOWN
(Tractor) There's a magical place where the moon is always full, where the fiddle strings never break, and where the dance floor stays just crowded enough--and no, I'm not talking about Austin. Although this honky-tonk Promised Land is in whatever backwater burg or bar the Texas trio with the tongue-twister name happens to be gracing with their sizzling, carefree style of Western swing. If you haven't had the giddy pleasure of seeing Hot Club of Cowtown, I heartily recommend that you come on out to listen to these well-mannered and cinematically attractive young people tear the proverbial roof off. Their hot, hopping jazz leaps from Django Reinhardt to Hoagy Carmichael and then back to Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys with grace, style, and charm to spare. Dig out that silk tie with the hand-painted cactus or tuck a flower behind your ear and dance till the barn burns down. TAMARA PARIS

MONDAY 11/11


THE WHIP, BLÖÖDHAG, DJ FRANKI CHAN, DJ RED LEATHER CHAPSTICK
(Graceland) See preview, page 41.

NO DOUBT, GARBAGE, THE DISTILLERS
(Key Arena) See Stranger Suggests, page 23.

TUESDAY 11/12


MONO, KINSKI, BLACK DICE
(I-Spy) See preview, page 41.

THE PATTERN, HAR MAR SUPERSTAR
(Graceland) Har Mar Superstar es muy har har, no? Sí! But a superstar? Nyet. Or at least, not yet. Or maybe never. And come to think of it, he's really not THAT funny, either. Funny looking, though? UH-HUH! Sweaty, balding, portly, and stubby, Har Mar, AKA Sean Tillman (of indie-pop non-superstar act Sean Na Na) AKA Harold Martin Tillman, is certainly one of the most unlikely superbad soul-brother sex machines on God's green earth. On his latest slice of cheese, You Can Feel Me, he is lost in his own private universe, where everything sounds like bad late-'80s New Jack sleaze. Gold chains, porn-star mustache, and greasy-hair discount R&B pastiche--Har Mar is essentially a novelty act. The only problem is, the stuff he's lampooning was already kinda silly anyway. He doesn't take things way, way over the top like Beck or Ween would. This may be his downfall--he never makes you believe that he believes that he's all that. SCOTT SEWARD

WEDNESDAY 11/13


THE BLACK HEART PROCESSION, MAGIC MAGICIANS, PLEASEEASAUR
(Showbox) See Stranger Suggests, page 23.

THE GREENHORNES, THE SIGHTS, SHAKE CITY, HOLY GHOST REVIVAL
(Crocodile) See also preview, page 39. Since arriving on the Detroit rock scene in 1998, the Sights have done their part to put the Motor City back on the map. Initially, it seemed they might remain rooted in the same '60s-obsessed sound of many of their contemporaries. But on their aptly titled sophomore disc, Got What We Want, the Sights edge past the pack toward a better-formed, individualistic aesthetic, in part by embracing the next logical decade: If this were 1973, chart-baiting fodder like the opener "Don't Want You Back" and country-rocker "It'd Be Nice" would be hits. Though the songs are lyrically light, bountiful hooks speak of syncopated bliss, most notably in the raucous "Be Like Normal." However, while "revivalist" bands like the White Stripes lift their riffs from the sources, the Sights seem to be copying the copyists, substituting Zeppelin licks and T. Rex tricks in place of their own style. The effect is one of hearing something familiar from the first listen. Repeated spins reveal the Sights' deeper personality at work, but the comforting, conforming act that first hits the ears might well put off the casual listener. So far, the Sights have had a good vision, but need a little more time before it's 20/20. ALEX STIMMEL

MATT POND P.A., THE VELLS, KIMONE
(Graceland) Fans of the New Year (and of comparatively long-in-the-tooth bands like the Go-Betweens and the Cure) will most likely find something to like in singer Matt Pond's strong, well-crafted songs and keenly thought-out albums. The music chases after the emotion-laden lyrics as if the band (and it is a band, not just a man) isn't entirely committed to making the listener experience the weight of the sentiment, but wholly dedicated to capturing its essence as it glides by in effervescent splendor. The Vells and their sweet-sounding pop (which at times recalls the late, great Zumpano) should dovetail nicely with Boston band Kimone, whose bio site describes melodic soundscapes, mercurial vocal lines, and orchestral arrangements before admitting they noise it up with all kinds of electronic gear. KATHLEEN WILSON