THURSDAY 2/13


DJ SURESHOT
(Baltic Room) Many years ago, DJ Sureshot returned to Seattle from London with a crate of fresh records. The music he had gathered from tiny record stores, outdoor markets, and underground clubs was a raw mix of dub and hiphop that was produced by now-forgotten but then-innovative groups like the Wild Bunch and Fresh 4 (whose version of "Wishing on a Star" Sureshot played to death at the Re-bar). Years later, he joined forces with DJ Supreme and formed the Sharpshooters, who released an impressive full-length CD, Choked Up, of hiphop and blunted-jazz beats on none other than Shadow Records. To this day, Sureshot essentially plays the kind of music he introduced me and many others to back in the early '90s--a London/Bristol infusion of New York and Kingston sounds. His latest CD with the Sharpshooters, Twice as Nice, represents a new creative peak for this man who was there at the beginning of the end of that dull and isolated Seattle. CHARLES MUDEDE

MUDHONEY, A-FRAMES, ALTA MAY
(Crocodile) The more I hear them, the more I'm convinced that A-Frames are one of Seattle's most interesting, inventive punk bands (along with the Blood Brothers). Mixing elements of the Fall, Wire, and other more obscure shit I'm sure I've never heard of (one gets the sense these guys are fanatical underground record collectors), A-Frames create serious music that's completely danceable--smart stuff that still hammers you in the gut. Min Yee's basslines throb like a bleeding wound; drummer Lars Finberg carves out precise beats that frontman/guitarist Erin Sullivan slices back at with his dour vocals and post-punk jangling. Excellent-sounding stuff on vinyl, but even better when you can catch it live. JENNIFER MAERZ

RILO KILEY, THE GOOD LIFE, MAYDAY
(Vera Project) The last show Los Angelenos Rilo Kiley played in Seattle was a raucous joyfest that elevated the scummy confines of Graceland into a momentary state of grace. The Omaha influence on the band's pop is less a matter of songcraft than of spirit--while The Execution of All Things (Saddle Creek) isn't exactly a radical departure from their debut (it's more like an evolution of influences), the life-affirming buoyancy of their live show owes a great deal to the barnstorming (barn-raising?) vibe of recent Bright Eyes records. I'm not much of a Saddle Creek fan in general, but the one thing I admire most about what I hear from that label is the sense of collective, reciprocal inspiration between the bands who record for it. Theirs seems like a celebratory miserablism, which is nice work if you can get it (and you can get it if you try). SEAN NELSON

INTERPOL
(Showbox) Interpol, a cadre of image-conscious New Yorkers, are the winners, hands down, for the band that most closely recreates the look of its publicity photos in real life. Their album, Turn on the Bright Lights, was an out-of-nowhere highlight of last year, and it's become a bit of a cliché to talk about the way they look, but guess what: It's a huge part of what they are. And ironically, their ability to replicate extends to the music they make. Their live set sounds almost exactly like their record, right down to the blips and bleeps; like Kerouac's Huncke, they're somnolent and alert; like early-'80s dourcore, they're Joy and Division. Last time they were in town, they packed Graceland. Five months and one day later, they're riding herd over the Showbox. I can't imagine where they'll stand in July, but I do know that that song about the couches is fucking brilliant. SEAN NELSON

FRIDAY 2/14


VISQUEEN
(Easy Street Records, West Seattle) See preview, page 59.

DJ MASEO, DJ B-MELLO
(Showbox) See preview, page 63.

CARISSA'S WIERD, THE PROM, THE DECEMBERISTS, IN PRAISE OF FOLLY
(Crocodile) Though the ever-changing lineup keeps things fresh, it's nice to know that through the years of Carissa's Wierd's existence, the band's two principal singers and songwriters have remained, and will continue to remain, constant members. Mat Brooke and Jenn Ghetto's frail songs and vocals can make you cry or laugh, depending on what release your perspective demands, and the sounds of multiple string elements (acoustic and electric guitar, lap steel, violin) and electric keyboards build an alternately loose and flexed structure around them. If you haven't seen the band in a while, this is your call to do so. The Prom's piano-led sadness of song is a perfect lead-in, casting a stage of jostled tranquility and flattened rage--which should complement Carissa's Wierd gloriously. KATHLEEN WILSON.

BEN KWELLER, BRENDAN BENSON AND THE WELLFED BOYS
(Graceland) Shit-hot-power-pop can be found on Detroit's Brendan Benson's highly recommended, self-produced album Lapalco, but this show is headlined by another wonder--Texan Ben Kweller, whose album Sha Sha proves that people younger than you are not only likely to be more attractive than you, but also to make better pop music. (Whether or not the title is a "Der Kommissar" reference remains to be seen.) SEAN NELSON

SATURDAY 2/15


ROADSIDE MONUMENT, ONEIDA, VERMILION
(Graceland) See Stranger Suggests, page 42.

SICKO, THE HOLLOWPOINTS, AUGUST SPIES, MAYDAY, THE SOCIAL SCENE
(Ground Zero) See Underage, page 67.

THE IMPOTENT SEA SNAKES
(Crocodile) I've never seen this performance live, so I'll withhold judgment and instead pass along what a little research has taught me about the Impotent Sea Snakes. They're an Atlanta glam-rock-musical kind of thing that focuses on sex and cross-dressers. They're costumed like nurses, drag queens, and patent-leather hookers, and they've been featured on HBO's Real Sex series and the Playboy Channel's Sexcetera series. Their new disc features cameos from Issac Hayes, Motörhead's Lemmy, porn queen Jemma Jameson, and Faster Pussycat's Taime Downe. Other than that, you're on your own--this could either be kind of cool in a Rocky Horror Picture Show kind of way, or really terrible and skanky in a Hollywood Boulevard reject kind of way. Up to you to decide where to place your bets. JENNIFER MAERZ

DOLOUR, VOYAGER ONE, THE CAROLINES
(Sit & Spin) From the suburban wilds outside Portland come the Carolines, whose slightly fey, oddly muscular pop feels young and inspired, like a bunch of not-quite-kids-anymore who are still motivated by the rock 'n' roll dream but who don't feel the need to dress it up in tough-guy poses. The Carolines are about words, melodies, and musical interdependence, and while they may not melt your butter quite yet, they seem to have that ineffable whatever that makes basement bands stick around long enough to move upstairs. What a strained, shitty metaphor. Good band, though. Sorry. Also really good are their billmates, Voyager One, whose atmospherics can't quite cloud the rock that lurks beneath, and Dolour, who make the kind of pop that makes you feel like living again. SEAN NELSON

HINT HINT, THE INTELLIGENCE, THE PYRAMIDS
(Sunset) On their debut Cold Crush release, Sex Is Everything, Hint Hint's heat is located in its rhythm section--anchored by the excellent drumming of Jason Lajuenesse. That steady beat is topped by an elastic keyboard frenzy performing a perfectly timed duel with frantic vocals, complete with all the swipes, staggers, and showmanship. Sex Is Everything is a flawless presentation from this fine Seattle band, making their live show even more exciting. KATHLEEN WILSON

METAL FEIST: SHE-LEVEL, THREE INCHES OF BLOOD, THE ABODOX, C AVERAGE, BLĂ–Ă–DHAG, PLAYING ENEMY, GOATS BLOOD, TEEN CTHULHU, THE WHIP
(Vera Project) Tons of touring metal shows have come through Seattle lately, but I'm kinda blown over by the huge local lineup here. The show starts at 7:00 p.m., and nine bands are performing--which means a shitload of music will be crammed into a fairly short amount of time. I haven't heard all of these guys, but I can definitely vouch for the pure awesome heaviness of the Whip, the metal-spiked hardcore ferocity of Playing Enemy, the black metal-gore of Teen Cthulhu, and the sci-fi shredding of BlöödHag. Basically, if you like loud, heavy, punk-fueled metal, you could step in pretty much anywhere in this lineup and still be blissfully leveled by the end of the night. JENNIFER MAERZ

SUNDAY 2/16


ADAM GREEN, ALL GIRL SUMMER FUN BAND, ANNA OXYGEN, THE SOLVENTS
(Crocodile) The year 2002 saw the release of two divergent solo records by each half of the equally celebrated/abhorred New York duo the Moldy Peaches (Kimya Dawson's I'm Sorry That Sometimes I'm Mean and Adam Green's Garfield)--and both were promptly panned. And while, admittedly, neither record really lived up to the potential of the Peaches' debut, these two little misgivings helped to solidify just how prominent a role Green's charisma plays in that band's aesthetic. Self-aware, sophomoric, indulgent, and more than a little obnoxious, Garfield is also pretty fucking charming--in that crude, teenage boy kinda way. And if there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that charm is always more important than talent--especially when music's concerned. If nothing else, this bill should serve as testament to that. ZAC PENNINGTON

MONDAY 2/17


DJs KRUSH, MUG FROSTY AND AMS, SUPERSOUL
(Chop Suey) See preview, page 60.

HIMSA, NORMA JEAN, ME WITHOUT YOU, BELOVED
(Vera Project) With a singer who screams like he gets dumped in a vat of boiling oil at the start of every song, Norma Jean follow a similar musical trajectory as headliners Himsa--good, loud, aggressive metalcore (is that the politically correct term for bands that bridge metal and hardcore now?). There's plenty of the chuga-chuga heavy-metal riffage here, as each reverberation sounds like it weighs more than the entire band collectively, and the drums fire away like machine-gun clips. At points throughout their songs, though, they'll switch gears into these "sad triumph" melodies that could almost add an emotional edge to their fierce side. But those never last for long on Norma Jean's most recent offering, Bless the Martyr and Kiss the Child. JENNIFER MAERZ

COBRA HIGH, DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER, DJs FRANKI CHAN AND RED LEATHER CHAPSTICK
(Graceland) Cobra High are a pile-driving, four-person lineup where the guitarist and bassist do double duty on keyboards, along with an energetic singer and "lead keyboardist." Together, they're one of Seattle's most fiery bands. They've been in the studio recording an album to be released on Cold Crush, and have worked with Add N to (X) experimentalist Barry 7 on other projects. If I had to bet on a breakout band at the forthcoming SXSW, Cobra High would get my money. KATHLEEN WILSON

TUESDAY 2/18


ME INFECTO, THE ABODOX, DYPAK, THE QUARTERHORSE
(Crocodile) See preview, page 63.

RAINER MARIA, MATES OF STATE, LANDS FARTHER EAST
(Graceland) Rainer Maria's male-and-female-vocaled angst is embraced by many and shrugged at by a few who know they have every reason to give in except one--a pretentiousness only slightly hinted at by the band's poet-referencing name. Far more ponciness has been seen from many a lesser band, though. Mates of State are far less weighty, and thoroughly enjoyable for all concerned. KATHLEEN WILSON

WEDNESDAY 2/19


POP INTERSTATE, THE MORE, THE HAUNT
(Crocodile) Sounding like an airier version of the Lemonheads, Seattle's Pop Interstate walk a line between pop and folk. KATHLEEN WILSON

THE ROOTS, CODY CHESNUTT
(Showbox) Those who go to this show will fall, buffalo-like, for the biggest scam in recent hiphop history. You believe you are going to watch "real hiphop," hiphop with heart and love; hiphop as it should be, as it was before materialistic, mindless, and vulgar rappers like Nelly corrupted it. But you're wrong to have believed this. One listen to the Roots' new, utterly vapid CD, Phrenology, makes clear that they are no better than Nelly--in fact they are worse, because Nelly at least has the decency to say what he is all (and could ever be) about: "the Benjamins." The Roots should stop hiding behind their saintly b-boy façade and make a song that reflects their true satanic content--a song about some new Nike Air Force sneakers or some other ghetto-related consumer product. Seattle, don't fall for the trap, this is not real hiphop, it's wack from the treetop straight down to the roots. CHARLES MUDEDE