FRIDAY 3/14


AFRO-MYSTIK, DJ RIZ
(Chop Suey) Instead of God or the church or other such issues so many rappers are into for some self-important reason or another, I prefer the pagan vibe. Though it's still a load of rubbish, it is better rubbish, because unlike organized religion, pagans have a healthy attitude about sex. And if you don't have a healthy attitude about sex, then you can't have a healthy attitude about life. Afro-Mystik, like so many of the bands on the San Francisco label Om Records, draw their inspiration from a frankly pagan vibe. Their music, performed by live musicians and DJs, is earthy, cosmic, ancient, futuristic, urban, and tribal. Afro-Mystik's CD Future Tropic, which combines techno effects with salsa rhythms, is not as accomplished as Suba's São Paulo Confessions, but it has a lot of great dance and walking (meaning walking from home to work, and from work to home) tracks. CHARLES MUDEDE

BLUEBIRD, THE PEELS
(Graceland) LA's Bluebird sound like the Foo Fighters and Fu Manchu, mashed together and lessened by about half their sonic load. The Dim Mak Records band has a desert blue-jeans vibe, half soaring on the wings of its pop melodies and half drag-racing a trail of psychedelic stoner rock to an effects-heavy finish. They'll sound a little too clean, verging on the edge of smooth album-oriented rock for the length of one track, but then they'll squeal the tires on a Nebula-esque "Bang the Drum" and make everything all right again. That said, I'm placing my bets on them putting on a pretty kickass live show. JENNIFER MAERZ

PURE JOY, STAR COLLECTOR, HEX COUNTRY
(Sunset) If Seattle is a breeding ground for sparkling power-pop bands, then Rusty Willoughby is their almighty godfather--whether creating wonderfully adolescent wig-outs with Flop or reaching even farther back with Pure Joy (who play tonight). You'll have to search far and wide to find a more lovable and prevailing pop star than Rusty. KATHLEEN WILSON

SONS OF HAGAR, THE PROPHETICS
(Vera Project) Fact number one: The Sons of Hagar are no Sunz of Man. The hiphop quartet from Des Moines need to do more than just go on about their commitment to the inflexible laws of Islam; they have to work on their beats, which is the most important aspect of hiphop. Fact number two--and the one reason why I will always find it hard to like Sons of Hagar (even if they do get their beats down)--is the truth that God doesn't exist. God died in the 19th century, so why in the world is anybody still going on about Him? Heaven, holy spirits, hell, walking on water, the devil, voices from clouds, burning bushes--nigger, please. Whether He comes in the form of the Bible or the Koran, I find it rather ridiculous that people still go on about God in "the age of science and technology," as the great dub poet Linton Kwesi Johnson once put it. CHARLES MUDEDE

SATURDAY 3/15


THE STREETS
(Chop Suey) See preview, page 35.

GRAIG MARKEL, DOLOUR, DEAR JOHN LETTERS, SINESTRO
(Crocodile) Enough has been said about Dolour. Ever since the man (Shane Tutmarc) plastered his perfect cheekbones all over the city via wall-sized posters, people haven't stopped talking about him (or making his giant face the butt of jokes). But to be fair, I should note that a lot of people agree that Dolour has released a pretty good record, despite the strange marketing behind it. And I hear Dolour is even better live. So if that's not enough to get you into the club for tonight's show, Dear John Letters' new record, Unbroken, might do the trick. It's nothing too different--it doesn't push any boundaries--but for what it is (a rocky sort of folkish kind of pop thing), it's still good. Unlike Dolour, though, I hear Dear John Letters' charm doesn't transfer quite as successfully in the live setting. That could be a bummer--but hey, if the show blows, you can always resort to making fun of "Mr. Brit-Pop Cheekbones." MEGAN SELING

THE GREEN PAJAMAS, DOWN WITH HEROES, THE VICTOR MATURES
(Sunset) I own a whole mess of records rooted in that debatable psychedelic/Paisley Underground/headphones scene from a couple decades ago (including Rain Parade, Viva Saturn, and the Three O'Clock), but none of the bands have remained constant like Seattle's own Green Pajamas. 1984's tape release Summer of Lust ushered in a bunch of cassette releases before their debut full-length, Book of Hours, came out in 1987. Ghosts of Love, Doctor Dragonfly, and Book of Hours all make for good earphone trips (they're kind of Byrds-y, Beatles-esque neo-psych); the newer stuff (All Clues Lead to Megan's Bed, Seven Fathoms Down and Falling, Northern Gothic) is just the tip of the iceberg of good recorded material out there. The Green Pajamas are a much-loved and much-recorded band. KATHLEEN WILSON

SUNDAY 3/16


Q AND NOT U, ENGINE DOWN, ROCKY VOTOLATO, THE BOGGS
(Graceland) You may be drawn to the headliners, but I guarantee Rocky Votolato is the performer you'll remember most. His drawn and beautifully solemn voice makes him a compelling storyteller, and his spare acoustic accompaniment floats weightlessly underneath, lending a shadowy existence to his tales. If you're already familiar with Waxwing--Votolato's full band--you know what I'm talking about. If not, be sure to get to the show early enough to catch the opening acts. You're welcome. KATHLEEN WILSONMONDAY 3/17


MILLHOUS, THE FLESHIES, LOPEZ
(Zak's) The Fleshies will always have an air of playfulness to their sets, in the true skate punk sense of the absurd--whether they're singing about arming the homeless or about motherfucking meatballs, they project their sentiments with the air of a kid who washed down a pan full of Jell-O with a gallon of Kool-Aid and is up for the night. On their latest record, The Sicilian, the band is smothered in heavy noise--lots of buzzing feedback and muffled lyrics, making you feel like you're crowded in a basement party where one spilled Pabst will electrocute everyone. Although you can't tell unless you read their lyric sheet, the band has altered its themes a bit to get (slightly) more serious, taking to task the bored suburban housewife, the unquestioning patriot, and those who are deathly afraid of the terror-apocalypse, applying a heavier, almost metal sound to accompany their heavier issues. The band is living proof that you don't have to hang up your adolescent spirit to mature as musicians. JENNIFER MAERZTUESDAY 3/18


6 MINUTE MILE, LITTLE LUANN, LOVELESS AND THE GOODNIGHT TRAIL, JETTISON
(Graceland) Tonight's show is a CD release extravaganza with both 6 Minute Mile and Loveless and the Goodnight Trail celebrating their debut releases on Sonic Boom Recordings. 6 Minute Mile's The Race for Second was engineered and co-produced by Graig Markel, and while the disc wasn't too convincing on the first listen (though it wasn't bad), it only took a few more spins for the heavy-rock-with-an-indie-kind-of-charm to make it onto my current playlist. And as if a new record wasn't enough cause for celebration, I hear that tonight is also the birthday of 6 Minute Mile's frontman, Jason Hughes. Maybe you should wait until after his set to buy him a drink, though, because you don't want the guy to get too sloppy before his big show. MEGAN SELING

MINISTRY, NOTHINGFACE, LOLLIPOP LUST KILL, MOTOGRATER
(Northgate Music Theater) On their latest industrial metal opus, Animositisomina, Ministry continue to bring the cold hard hand of heavy electronic artillery down through the rotting fabric of society. With guitars that buzz like dental drills on root canals, drum machines that crash like trash compactors on the beat, and caustic, distorted vocals, the Al Jourgensen-led robot army is still set on slay. While there are no instant hits like "New World Order" here, songs like "Impossible" kick down doors with steely blows, making dance music for apocalyptic destruction that goth kids can still dance to. Listening to them, you can't help but feel oppressed by the dark forces of their droning style. And while Animositisomina sounds monotonous in places, it also has more of a cool underground feel than a lot of the 120 Minutes-friendly stuff they've done in the past. JENNIFER MAERZ

WEDNESDAY 3/19


BIG DADDY KANE, KILLAH PRIEST
(Chop Suey) See preview, page 37.

THE PREONS, WATER KILL THE SUN, MINES
(Crocodile) Recently I had a conversation with a friend based on the question, "Can you truly love someone without being able to say exactly why?" I said yes, she said no. She claimed that true love can be explained, even if it just comes down to listing all the little things that make people who they are (like the way their nostrils flare when they get angry or something). While I can't argue with that theory, I still don't think that's the only way in which love can exist. Right now, I love the new Mines record, The Way the Wind Whips the Water, but I can't really say what it is that I love about it. Maybe it's the calm vocals, maybe it's the bouncy little guitar sounds, maybe it's the more mellow tunes that would be a bit depressing if they weren't so pretty. I can't say for sure, and I can't describe it, but I'm still convinced that it's love. Or at least a big ol' crush. MEGAN SELING