TRACHTENBURG FAMILY SLIDESHOW PLAYERS
(OK Hotel) The magic of Jason Trachtenburg and his Family Slideshow Players is hard to nail down. It could be the idea itself--him and his family performing simple yet brilliantly catchy songs relating to slides they find on weekend yard sale hunts. It could be his eight-year-old daughter, who does a damn good job of playing the drums, scurrying offstage at intervals to work on her homework while her dad and mom keep the show going. Or maybe the magic is just that it's different. No big, amped-up guitars, cool thrift store clothes, or trumped-up trashy sex appeal, just plain old innocent pop songs as pure as the virtues of an eight-year-old. Nice, huh? MARK DUSTON

YONDER MOUNTAIN STRING BAND, PIG IRON, JOHN HERALD
(Tractor Tavern) These four definitely have their own thing going on. Yonder Mountain String Band, an eccentric, electrified, fast-pickin' acoustic quartet from somewhere out there yonder in them hills of Colorado, boasts that if the power suddenly cut out, you'd still hear the band getting down loud and clear. Though traditional bluegrass has no bass--or anything having to do with electricity, for that matter--YMSB certainly get away with defying tradition. The low end carries the band's sound into a totally different paradigm. It's the 21st century y'all. If you're itchin' for some hoedown pickin', then this is the show for you. CHRISTOPHER HERB

BLACK HEART PROCESSION, SOUL JUNK, LOVE AS LAUGHTER
(Crocodile) Get there early for Love As Laughter, one of our city's finest local bands. See preview this issue.

POST STARDOM DEPRESSION, SP UNLIMITED
(Sit & Spin) Post Stardom Depression plays extremely potent rock and roll. It's hard, fast, dark, and sexually charged--reminiscent of the Cult back before the Cult became a car commercial. What's great about this band is its ambiguous nature. Like Stone Temple Pilots, Post Stardom Depression steals style from the best of them, but its members are intuitive and tasteful enough that the audience never walks away feeling cheated. F. VENTURA-PENA

DJ SARA, DJ MOSES, JALEE, MISS FUNK, DJ WASABI, JULIE HERRERA, DJ GISELLE
(I-Spy) In the recent movie Groove, a disappointingly earthbound evocation of the rave experience (U.K. import Human Traffic gets it better), trance superstar John Digweed shows up at a reconvened warehouse party and plays to an ecstatic audience of about 30. Jaded ravers in the theater audience snorted at this unlikely scenario; everyone knows Diggers and his frequent partner, Sasha, never play to less than thousands, and never get paid less than that, either. The film must have given somebody over at I-Spy an idea, however; the relatively puny venue will be hosting one DJ Sara, who is, as they say, huge in Europe. Her tight mix of techno and house kissed by soul, acid jazz, and reggae have earned her residencies and steady gigs in Germany, France, the U.K., her native Spain, and, most notably, that sun-drenched capital of dance, drugs, and decadence, Ibiza. Lord knows what she'll think of Seattle. LEAH GREENBLATT

LEFT HAND SMOKE, KEROSENE DREAM
(Showbox) Like so many Portland imports (the Trailblazers notwithstanding), Kerosene Dream is a bit underwhelming when compared with the superior cultural products from Seattle. But don't take my word for it. Let this Friday night's show be proof, as local blues rockers Left Hand Smoke release their latest album (see CD Review Revue this issue) to great jubilation, and leave Oregon country-rockers Kerosene Dream to expose Portland as the dingy, pokey cow town that it is. NATHAN THORNBURGH

SUPERSUCKERS COUNTRY HOO-HAW
(Crocodile) Since the Supersuckers have peppered their career in rawk with songs about Satan, booze, and hard livin', it's easy to look past the punk-metal posturing and see those down-home honky-tonk roots (which are downright blatant in the band's collaboration with Steve Earle and 1997's stab at country, Must've Been High). Tonight, Eddie Spaghetti and friends toss aside the heavy metal hand gestures in favor of cowboy boots and acoustic guitars, promising heartbreakin' renditions of tunes from Must've Been High and other twang-flavored classics that will make you nuzzle your sweetheart or guzzle your beer. Sounds like a swell way to steel yourself for Valentine's Day. BARBARA MITCHELL

DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE, THE JEALOUS SOUND, THE AND/ORS
(Showbox) Although Death Cab For Cutie is the obvious draw on this bill, don't miss the opportunity to catch the two upstarts who are opening the show. Fans of ye olde indie rock may recognize the Jealous Sound's Blair Shehan, frontman of the late, great Knapsack. Along with members of Sunday's Best and Ten-Foot Pole, Shehan is still cranking out intelligent, tightly wound songs that build on the promise of his previous band. The And/Ors offer their own take on post-'90s indie rock, proving once again that "messy" and "melodic" are indeed two great tastes that taste great together. BARBARA MITCHELL

MOUNTAIN CON, Steprocket
(Sit & Spin) Seattle's Mountain Con is doing very well. The band's most recent record, The MC Stands for Revolution, came out on Bongload last year, and they have just returned home from a national tour, playing Seattle for the first time without talented chain-smoking DJ Erik Blood. It should be interesting to see how Blood's absence will affect Mountain Con's sound, but expect bright, up-tempo pop songs full of smart, twangy slide guitar, characterized by a sort of roots-lite influence. This is the kind of band you never expect to see in your own city, because Mountain Con's music feels made for MTV: cute, clean, easily digestible hits that stick in your hum matrix for days on end if you're not careful. A friend and I sang the refrain to Smash Mouth's "All Star" ("All that glitters is goooooold") along to about four of Mountain Con's songs in a drunken stupor once at the Tractor, and realized that the band is going to be huge by virtue of the fact that this belligerent act was possible. I suppose it's possible that our revelation also had to do with the fact that the bar was packed with screaming frat and sorority ninnies. In a Cha Cha town like Seattle, that probably sounds like an insult. It most definitely is not. JEFF DeROCHE

A PERFECT CIRCLE, SNAKE RIVER CONSPIRACY
(Mercer Arena) With Maynard James Keenan's unmistakable vocals, and a dark, searing, hypnotic sound, A Perfect Circle would be easy to dismiss as a kinder, gentler version of Tool. But who cares when the result is this good? This sort-of-side-project's debut, Mer de Noms, dilutes the smoldering sound of Keenan's other band with more radio-friendly hooks and upbeat tempos. The result is just as compelling, if slightly less oppressive. Keenan is also one of the most charismatic presences in modern rock--he emits the kind of power, danger, and sophistication that Marilyn Manson only dreams of. Should be a doozy. BARBARA MITCHELL

THEE OLD CODGERS, TRACHTENBURG FAMILY SLIDESHOW PLAYERS
(Rainbow) The problem with country, folk music, and Texas in general lies in the fake, hokey traditionalism and its slavish subservience to a narrowly defined demographic of crackers. So it comes as a pleasant surprise that a Central Texan banjo player named Danny Barnes plays music that is as open and expansive as the prairies themselves; under Barnes' big sky there's room for punk, bluegrass, and even a jazz sensibility to peacefully co-exist. Proof of this will come by the bucketful at the Rainbow, where Barnes (whose most famous band is Bad Livers) will sit for a spell with some Crack Sabbath outjazzers in a project called Thee Old Codgers. NATHAN THORNBURGH

ROCKIN' TEENAGE COMBO
(Elysian) The Rockin' Teenage Combo and its favorite Seattle haunt, the Elysian Brewery, are well suited to each other. RTC's unique jazz improv sound is a definite microbrew, and while rockers sling musical Michelob down the hill at the Breakroom, RTC remains dedicated to unusual interpretations of instrumental groove. As for the potential for snobbery in such a rarefied setting, I would be more suspicious of RTC's hipster appeal but for the fact that keyboardist Dara Quinn remains, by all accounts, sincere and approachable despite her idolatry in the alt jazz community. Besides, if you catch RTC at the Elysian, you can slake your thirst on an Elysian Bifrost & Saison beer, whatever the hell that is. NATHAN THORNBURGH

78 RPM, JO MILLER & HER BURLY ROUGHNECKS
(Tractor Tavern) At a typical 78 RPM show, you have to shake yourself free of the uncanny illusion that it's 1944 and you're in the front row of the Grand Ole Opry. Clad in vintage cowboy suits, these five musicians (bass, banjo, guitar, mandolin, and fiddle) lean into their ancient condenser microphone and twist their voices into the "high, lonesome sound" of traditional bluegrass. When it's done right, this quintessentially American music makes you want to stomp your feet and lay down and weep all at the same damn time. And nobody in town does it better and with more integrity than these boys. In response to the creeping commercialization of their beloved melodies, mandolin player Adam Tanner succinctly says, "This music was made by people from the hills who had no reason to apologize for themselves." So, quit peeling 'taters, wipe the coal dust from your brow, and let these consummate showmen uplift your weary soul. TAMARA PARIS

JUNK GENIUS
(Sunset Tavern) Though Junk Genius isn't featured in Ken Burns' Jazz, the players here speak for themselves. Ben Goldberg (clarinet) is probably best known for his New Klezmer Trio. Trevor Dunn is the bassist for Mr. Bungle, Kenny Wollesen hits the traps for Sex Mob, and John Schott has been a guitarist/sideman for that eternally reoccurring figurehead of the younger jazz generation, John Zorn. Together as Junk Genius, they've sped up bebop tunes (as on their first, self-titled release) and, for their second release, researched both Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music and Alan Lomax's field recordings of the South to produce a strangely hypnotizing yet fertile synthesis of anger, greed, love, and joy. KREG HASEGAWA

This Day In History, 1969: Bobby Brown--Grammy winner, former member of America's great teen dance sensation New Edition, and generic celebrity prisoner/wife-beater--was born in Roxbury, Massachusetts.

CORROSION OF CONFORMITY, CLUTCH, NEBULA, CLEARLIGHT
(Showbox) Mike Dean, member of this venerable punk/metal band, was my housemate in an anarchist collective for years. Once I asked him what COC's secret of success was, and he replied with a smirk, "We've got a great corporate logo." Though there was a time when the band's clever tag was scrawled into every bathroom stall in every punk rock dive in the world, there's more than savvy marketing behind this band's ongoing survival. Sure, there's the noise that makes your eyes turn to liquid and ooze out of their sockets. But when Rage Against the Machine was getting their lunch money stolen, COC had long been spreading the word about the secret government. And now that another Bush is president, they've never seemed more relevant. So, haul out that faded COC T-shirt and bang your head in righteous rage. But remember, we're not getting any younger, so bring some earplugs, okay? TAMARA PARIS

FLASHBACK 80'S TRIBUTE
(Crocodile) Those wacky Seattle clubs keep putting them on; those crazy Seattleites keep going to them; and we zany press people keep writing them up. I'm starting to think all this "tribute night" HORSESHIT is never going to come to an end. There was the Cure, the Velvet Underground, and then there was My Bloody Valentine. More recently, shock of the century, the Crocodile held a tribute night for the Smiths... I won't even go into the INSANE proliferation of "tribute bands" that play EVERY FUCKING WEEK in this city. Hey, why don't you motherfuckers try doing a GG Allin tribute night? Now there's some SERIOUS horseshit for you. Or how about some GWAR? Anyone? Meantime, we'll temporarily satisfy our seemingly infinite desire for tributes with this '80s mixed bag, featuring the Cripples, the Turn-Ons, Jon Auer, the Razorbabes, Sushi Robo, Aaron Sprinkle, Serious Moonlight (featuring Jeramy of Voyager One with Bo and Michael of Western State Hurricanes), and whomever else the Crocodile staff has either drugged, paid off, or slept with to get this talent-packed but oh-so-redundant night together. JEFF DeROCHE

GRAIG MARKEL, LILA, HELLO FROM WAVELAND
(Crocodile) He's full of soul, very talented, and we definitely owe him an apology for spelling his name incorrectly on more than one occasion. It's Graig, not Greg. Sincere apologies, sir. JEFF DeROCHE