THURSDAY 11/25
Thank you.

FRIDAY 11/26


PISTOL STAR
(CHAC) See Border Radio, page 43.

LALI PUNA, ALIAS, DUO 505
(Neumo's) See Data Breaker, page 49.

BAD BOY BILL, STEVE SMOOTH
(Element) See Data Breaker page 49.

IRON COMPOSER: BRENT AMACHER VS. IAN MOORE
(Crocodile) See Stranger Suggests, page 27.

HIPHOP VS. ROCK: BRISTLE, BLĂ–Ă–DHAG, OLDOMINION, MAN FALL, GUESTS
(Catwalk) Oldominion, which has members in the Seattle/Portland area, has thus far produced one masterpiece, their debut One (2000). What makes this record great is it successfully realizes the hiphop group's dominant themes and aesthetics. Between the first track ("Ezmerelda") and the last ("Parallel to Hell") is a complete universe (or sonic cinema) of wasted vampires, dead cities, and burning underworlds in which madmen are punished for unspeakable crimes. The Wu-Tang Clan drew its themes from kung fu films; Oldominion draws its themes from the films of Bela Lugosi, who, as the song by Bauhaus informs us, is dead. CHARLES MUDEDE

GWAR, ALL THAT REMAINS, DYING FETUS
(Premier) So, I'm sitting in a tour bus with the substitute lead singer of GWAR (the real one was allegedly in rehab, or otherwise indisposed), and between drags on the fattest joint in history, he says the following thing: "Man, I love playing for the kids, but it's getting weird. It's like, as soon as I pull out my [prosthetic] dick, kids are screaming at me to come on 'em and bleed on 'em... It's like they're not even listening." True. SEAN NELSON

THE JEUNES, THE JAILBIRDS, THE ORPHAN PROJECT, MARTIAN MEMO TO GOD
(Graceland) The Jailbirds are high-octane garage rock from Japan, the country that produced the dysfunctional freakouts of the King Brothers and the more studied hard punk edge of Guitar Wolf. The Jailbirds fall somewhere in between those bands, mixing anthemic melodies into mid-tempo, shout-the-chorus tracks. Opening are Martian Memo to God, who fold moody, post-punk atmospherics into otherwise supercharged rock 'n' roll. JENNIFER MAERZ

TRACTOR SEX FATALITY, THE MOTHER'S ANGER, STEAMING WOLF PENIS
(Fun House) Fans of crass B-movie (Jerkbeast) stars Steaming Wolf Penis should enjoy getting harassed by the monster-fronted punks, while spastic noise rockers Tractor Sex Fatality harass your sense of quiet uniformity with a barrage of sax-screaming action. The Mother's Anger are an Israeli band that sounds like a cross between HĂĽsker DĂĽ and Broadcast Oblivion. JENNIFER MAERZ

THE EXPLOITED, THE GUILTY, RESILIENCE, JACKMOVE, THE UNTOUCHABLES
(Hell's Kitchen) It must suck being a 14-year-old punker these days. It sucked in '94 too, but I can only imagine it now. The old dudes always say shit like "back in the day we would get our asses kicked for wearing a Devo shirt." Now you got these choads in Ashlee Simpson's band sporting mohawks on Saturday Night Live. It's probably true that being punk in the early '80s made you a marked man for all the jocks and preps, but at least you could see killer shows after some asshole threw a brick at you. Now you're limited to shit like Blink-182 or, even worse, having to watch bands like the Exploited show you how it's really done. If you don't mind seeing what your dad looks like in bondage pants go to this show. I'd rather have someone yell "Hey faggot!" and take my chances with the brick. JED MAHEU

ALL AMERICAN PLAYBOYS, JIMMY FLAME AND THE SEXXXY BOYS, FUSTAMP, THE NIGEL MUSTAPHA MEMORIAL QUARTET
(Sunset) Standing at a bus stop, penniless, not wanting to make shitty conversation with shitty assholes. Jimmy Flame, head Sexxxy in this gang of Sexxxy Boys, lends his gruff voice to blunt observations about a rote lifestyle that drives him to join the working punk class. JENNIFER MAERZ

SYPHILIS SAUNA, XAXIS WYE, NTH, WOUNDED INFIDEL
(Rendezvous) This "Night of Electronic DOOM" may scare the Thanksgiving dinner right out of ya. Nth combines abrasive drill 'n' bass rhythms with orchestral flourishes and puts electro through an IDM rinse cycle, nicely mixing aggression and nuanced musicianship. Xaxis Wye's mesmerizing, microbial soundscapes sound like mysterious, mystical rituals enacted in remote corners of the globe. Check out his CD, forMes, for some potent sonic incense. The music of Syphilis Sauna (Patrick Urn) recalls Coil's nefarious ambience in an advanced state of agitation and also bares vestigial traces of Skinny Puppy/Download's post-industrial toxicity. And don't forget Wounded Infidel's "unexpected seizure robot ragga experi-Mental flavor broken dance." DAVE SEGAL

SATURDAY 11/27


THE MAKERS, LOW FLYING OWLS, NO-FI SOUL REBELLION, DJ MF CAKE
(Sunset) See CD review, page 39.

SYNTH CLUB, JACOB LONDON, JERRY ABSTRACT, OBELUS
(Chop Suey) See Data Breaker, page 49.

OZOMATLI, GUESTS
(Showbox) The danger of incorporating loads of styles into your music is that it often comes out sounding like flavorless mush. Sometimes "eclectic" is just a euphemism for "bland compromise." Los Angeles' Ozomatli mostly elude this pitfall. They're poster boys for party-centric multi-culti music and their latest album, Street Signs, is a vibrant billboard of this ethos. Funk, salsa, and hiphop figure most prominently in their earnest, uplefting [sic] jams, but it's not unusual for tablas and sitars to usher Indian vibes into the mix. A tango sample and Czech orchestra here, appearances from Los Lobos' David Hidalgo, Jurassic 5's Chali 2na and Cut Chemist, and Latin jazz pianist Eddie Palmieri there, and you've got a world-music fiesta bursting with almost too much spice. DAVE SEGAL

SONDRE LERCHE, THE GOLDEN REPUBLIC, ASHLEY MATTE
(Crocodile) Even sunny-sounding songwriters can suffer from deep depression. Without their acrid lyrics, Elliott Smith's lush compositions would resemble upbeat hymns of thanks for life's richest pleasures. Brian Wilson's dark undercurrents eventually stifled his sun-and-fun songcraft like a tsunami smothering a sandcastle. When extreme duress serves as a creative catalyst for achingly beautiful art, it presents a disconcerting dichotomy, one that might make listeners ponder the proportional relationship between emotional pain and profoundly pretty music. Sondre Lerche is one chamber-pop performer whose fans will never feel like scavengers on a tortured soul. Lerche, whose blend of jangly guitars, pristine piano tones, orchestrally enhanced melodies, and samba-style rhythms paint him as a Brazilian Burt Bacharach instead of a 21-year-old Norwegian, ranks among music's most relentlessly pleasant personalities. On a bleak landscape that touts the irony-addled euphoria of the Polyphonic Spree as a refreshing oasis, it's impossible to overstate the sublime spectacle of a gleeful singer inviting audiences to share his enthusiasm. Lerche is like a low-key Andrew W. K. for the Pet Sounds set. ANDREW MILLER

THE EVAPORATORS, THE LEATHER UPPERS, HEAD, THE GOBLINS
(Comet) If Richard Simmons and Weird Al birthed a Canadian, raised on anthemic punk rock and sprouting a brown clown wig 'do, he'd probably kick it with the Evaporators enigmatic frontman Nardwuar. Nardwuar the Human Serviette is skilled at the art of aerobic absurdity, both in his band interviews (available at nardwuar.com) and with his own musical output, which includes songs that would leave ol' Jazzercize-hands Simmons emotionally conflicted ("I Feel Like a Fat Frustrated Fuck" versus "Get Off That Treadmill") that live are delivered with orders to both kneel down and jump around the room. JENNIFER MAERZ

MEGADETH, EXODUS, EARSHOT
(Moore) Maliciously motivated metal bands make the best live acts, mixing virtuosity, velocity, and violence. That bodes well for this bill, because Exodus and Megadeth are so incensed at the current political climate that they have thrust serrated needles into untapped veins of pure venom. Tempo of the Damned, Exodus' first studio album in 12 years, opens with "The Scar-Spangled Banner," but instead of Hendrix-style appropriation of the national anthem, this is a classic thrash shredder. Megadeth's The System Has Failed isn't as fast, but it's equally angry. With his scalding sneer and slithery hiss, Dave Mustaine ranks among metal's most convincing conspiracy theorists; here, he lashes out at current corruption like an unhinged vigilante version of Ralph Nader. "Holy Wars" and "Hangar 18," Megadeth's military-mauling epics from 1990, now glow with renewed energy as setlist centerpieces. Both songs remain topically relevant and compositionally futuristic, with labyrinthine song structures and surgical-scalpel-sharp solos. ANDREW MILLER

31 KNOTS, DEAD SCIENCE, ASAHI
(S.S. Marie Antoinette) Our magical Portland indie rock neighbors, 31 Knots, are currently preparing for next month's two-week European tour. But before they hop the pond they're playing a couple Northwest tour-kickoff shows. Until they hit the road in Spring 2005, this could be your last chance to see the band for a while. Also worth noting, 31 Knots recently released a new EP, The Curse of the Longest Day. Unfortunately the disc is only available in Europe and Japan, but hardcore fans who can't wait for a U.S. label can visit the band's website, www.31knots.com, and order one from them directly. MEGAN SELING

SUNDAY 11/28


MEWITHOUTYOU, OWEN, THE SNAKE THE CROSS THE CROWN, DESPITADOS
(Graceland) See All Ages Action, page 50.

IAN MOORE, DOWNPILOT, LUKE TEMPLE
(Sunset) Back in the early '90s, there was a great deal of grumbling on the scene about the sheer volume of bands moving here to catch an aftershock of the lucrative grunge earthquake. Times have changed dramatically--we now welcome interlopers into the music community--particularly if they are freakishly gifted New York refugees like multitalented singer-songwriter Luke Temple. After a scholarship for his painting skills afforded him the opportunity to move to New York City, Temple tried to carve out a niche on the club circuit, opening for supportive bands as disparate as Spoon and the Fever. Despite the underground popularity of his 4-track home recordings, he was struggling to get by and chose to head to Seattle and sign with Mill Pond Records. With shades of Woody Guthrie and Nick Drake, Temple's delicate voice gains significant weight from his graceful songwriting and fiercely honest delivery. Lucky us. HANNAH LEVIN

MONDAY 11/29


SPARTA, FURTHER SEEMS FOREVER, COPELAND, SUNSHINE
(Showbox) I think enough time has passed and people no longer think of Further Seems Forever as "that one band that Dashboard Confessional used to be in" (after all, Chris Carrabba hasn't sang on a FSF release since 2001). Now FSF has a completely different overly sensitive and dopey lead singer (Jason Gleason) and a whole slew of new songs. Too bad they're still no good. Their version of melodious hard rock--à la Thursday with less yelling and more generic instrumentation--comes with slick production that glosses over whatever unique characteristics the band might be trying to express. And it's hard to write lyrics more cliché and boring than Dashboard Confessional (comparing love to a book? Oh, that's clever!), but FSF seems to have mastered the art. "I'd blow this whole world to pieces to not be alone / The shovel's been digging all day long / I can't even seem to make a scratch." Ugh. Sounds just like a Dashboard lyric. Maybe Chris Carrabba forgot to grab his song journal before walking out the door. MEGAN SELING

TUESDAY 11/30


CRADLE OF FILTH, BLEEDING THROUGH, ARCH ENEMY, HIMSA
(Premier) A gang of ferocious, marauding death metalers from the frozen backwoods of Sweden, Arch Enemy are fronted by Angela Gossow, a blonde German hottie whose vocals sound like a three-headed dog mangling a bunny rabbit. Despite her inhuman howl, among the fiercest in the "extreme" metal scene, Gossow smiles more often than the average hesher, and radiates the sort of charm that makes Arch Enemy's audience of slobbering NASCAR guys, Hobbit-looking dudes, and tarot card readers smile back. The band, which features members of Carcass, Armageddon, and Mercyful Fate, pulverizes listeners with its monstrous, Sepultura-like riffage and infernal melodies, which conjure up a post-election apocalypse. More cut-rate Cirque du Soleil than satanic, Cradle of Filth is overhyped, pretentious, and as evil as a little kitty cat. ADAM BREGMAN

WEEDEATER, JUMBO'S KILLCRANE, BLĂ–Ă–DHAG, ME INFECTO
(Sunset) The Slow Decay is an apt title for a new release from prog-sludge metalists Jumbo's Killcrane. The Kansas trio flattens heads with bulldozing riffs that lumber like a WWF giant on his way to final knockout blow. Their slow, apocalyptic melodies sprout fangs every time Erik Jarvis emits a bloodcurdling growl, otherwise casting trance-like spells that drop anvils every song. JENNIFER MAERZ

WEDNESDAY 12/1


THE WEAKERTHANS, MURDER BY DEATH, THE FEMMEBOTS
(Neumo's) See Stranger Suggests, page 27