Music

Up & Coming

MATES OF STATE, THE MINDERS, YAM
(Crocodile) See Stranger Suggests.

BILLY BRAGG, LAURA VEIRS
(EMP) Here's synchronicity at work: Last evening, I received that notice in the mail telling me I'm about to receive a tax-relief check come September, and, if you've been a faithful taxpayer (and tax-filer) for years as I have, you likely got one as well, god bless the Republican Party. Today, as I peruse the upcoming calendar of events, I notice that the brainy, absurdist, and utterly charming Billy Bragg is coming to Seattle to play at the EMP. I'm thinking that while Bragg's staunchly leftist, anti-capitalist pop music may not carry so well with the brats in 2001, a resurgent interest in artists like Bragg is inevitable in the current political climate. And for those who couldn't possibly be bothered to hear the voice of a thoughtful, talented, and politically righteous singer-songwriter this evening, might I remind you of "The Short Answer," a song I've become momentarily unable to get out of my hum-box: "Between Marx and marzipan in the dictionary, there was Mary [Which isn't true--I looked it up once]/Between the deep blue sea and the devil, that was me...." Or how about Bragg's deeply gorgeous "The Price I Pay," one of the all-time great, lovelorn piano ballads? "The Short Answer" comes from 1998's Workers Playtime, the cover of which contains the inarguable message "Capitalism is Killing Music," featured over proletarian Chinese cover art. I fucking love this man. JEFF DeROCHE

DJ LESLIE $, GUN ST. GIRLS, SHE-ZAM
(Showbox) See Stranger Suggests.

BROTHER, OMADHUAN
(Tractor Tavern) A dedicated perusal of Brother's extensive website reveals that this Australian band may or may not be the Nelson of the Outback, whose members perform while wearing leather kilts and have been known to incorporate both bagpipes AND didgeridoo into their tribal-influenced, softly "rockin'" music, full of harmonies and melodies, perfect for folks who might like this sort of thing. KATHLEEN WILSON

MATES OF STATE, THE MINDERS, SPACE BALLERINAS, CASIOTONE FOR THE PAINFULLY ALONE
(Arrowspace, Olympia) See Stranger Suggests.

WOMAD USA
(Marymoor Park) See preview this issue.

LAST OF THE JUANITAS, TOURETTE'S LAUTREC, EX-MODELS, BLACK NOISE CANNON
(Breakroom) What is the connection between Heidegger and heavy rock? Who cares? Still, you may find the answer in Portland's Last of the Juanitas. From guitars that clench and change like philosophically charged gears and levers, to drums that demolish their way through metal and jazz, this second-to-last show on the band's bizillionth U.S. tour will no doubt have the Juanitas well oiled and loud as shit. San Diego's Tourette's Lautrec used to master the important subgenre known as "exotic and operatic calliope-metal." However, its members' newest release, Red All, has them sounding slightly more straight-up rawk, with synths. Though it's a bit of a disappointment (despite the sailing delivery of vocalist Traci Wooley), their live shows are full of not-to-miss intensity. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

DEEP BANANA BLACKOUT
(Tractor Tavern) Soul, funk, jazz, Latin, and psychedelia inform this Northeastern band that borders on the "zany," with album titles such as Rowdy Duty and Feel the Peel. Deep Banana Blackout features a Tower of Power-esque horn section, and has collaborated with DJ Logic and members of Sun Ra and Kool & the Gang. KATHLEEN WILSON

SIR MIX-A-LOT
(Showbox) At a party last weekend, I got into yet another conversation about Seattle's rappers and how they feel about their home city. It appears to be a bad relationship: Most of them complain about a perceived lack of support, and when people do blow up, as was the case with Digable Planets' Butterfly, they often don't mention being from Seattle at all. Then we recalled "the Mix"--and though we aren't the biggest advocates of "Baby Got Back" as Seattle's offering to the art of rap, Sir Mix-A-Lot has always held a strong love for his city of Seattle. He's had his "Posse on Broadway" since '88, and on the internationally successful Mack Daddy (the album with that infamous ass-shaking song), he represented to the fullest with the song "Seattle Ain't Bullshittin'." He never turned his back on this city, and keeps with the times: The recently released Kid Sensation song about Ichiro was remixed by the Mix. That's love. BRIAN GOEDDE

WARREN ZEVON
(King Cat Theater) See Stranger Suggests.

WOMAD USA
(Marymoor Park) See preview this issue.

DAVID BYRNE, EX-CENTRIC SOUND SYSTEM, LES YEUX NOIRS, ARTHUR HULL
(Pier 62/63) David Byrne is one of those singers who actually croons, even though crooning is not in general the province of his genre. But then, genre is a dirty word to Byrne, whose Luaka Bop label very publicly (via an editorial in The New York Times) exploded the notion of "World Music," beginning in 1988 with a series of albums of Brazilian music and moving through countries at whim's whimsy. Byrne was just in town to play a sold-out Showbox, but this time Byrne is playing the Pier, the perfect setting in which to tap the spirit of his music, raise your face to the stars, and dance, dance, dance. TRACI VOGEL

SPOON, JOHN VANDERSLICE, THOSE PEABODYS
(Crocodile) Though you're probably already planning on seeing Spoon (and rightfully so), you should be sure and turn up early to check out worthy opener John Vanderslice (formerly of MK Ultra; see Bio Box). Though Vanderslice's second solo release, Time Travel Is Lonely, is an ambitious concept album about polar madness, technophobia, and political idealism, and is recorded elaborately, with lo-fi orchestration and dense, multilayered harmony, the Vanderslice live show is brisk, game, and lively as a rock show (particularly one that precedes the peerless American rock of Spoon) ought to be. JEFF DeROCHE

SPOON, CARISSA'S WIERD, THOSE PEABODYS
(Paradox) Now on to Spoon, a show that needs no introduction but deserves one anyway. The band is likely going to sell out both shows it plays tonight, because people easily get off on the Austin, Texas three-piece's driving, catchy, and, yes, SEXY rock and roll sound. Spoon's most recent Merge Records release, Girls Can Tell, is so good it's sickening--brimming over with blood-letting romance ("Do you remember when you were small?/How everybody would seem so tall/I am your shadow in the dark/I have your blood inside my heart") and pulsing guitar, compliments of the excellent singer/guitarist Britt Daniel. As Spoon proved several months back at a stellar Crocodile show, the decade-plus-old underground band carries beautifully live. High praise, I realize, but it's really nothing when love runs this deeply. JEFF DeROCHE

RUSTON MIRE, GARDENER, DEAR JOHN LETTERS
(Breakroom) If you've ever been a fan of the Beatles, Sweet, XTC, or any band that plays truly great pop, then Ruston Mire deserves your attention. Check out this local pedigree: Ruston Mire is composed of former members of such bands as Flop, the Fastbacks, Muzzle, Faster Tiger, Posies, Pop Sickle, Sanford Arms, Coffin Break, and Tubetop. Gardener is spawned of Seaweed, and Dear John Letters is the new solo project of former Nevada Bachelor Rob Benson. KATHLEEN WILSON

SINFOROSA, ALEX WOODARD, SHERYL WISER
(Elysian) Alex Woodard is being touted as the man whose record features members of the Posies, Sunny Day Real Estate, and Fountains of Wayne. I've never seen Woodard perform live, but his new record, which is being pushed more aggressively than perhaps any record has ever been pushed, is so clean, pretty, simple, and overproduced that it makes for some easy, easy listening. I was listening to the record, which is not at all in my personal taste, and thinking what I could say about it to give it the cadence that Woodard's contributors deserve, and I thought this: If I were at the Elysian on a nice summer evening with some friends, enjoying some tasty microbrews and feeling very spirited, I would be pleased by this pretty, standard ballad rock. JEFF DeROCHE

DEPECHE MODE
(Gorge Amphitheatre) I made the mistake of going to see Depeche Mode a few years back, and while this band has always been sort of obnoxious live (don't go shaking your sniveling little head at me now, art fag, facts are facts), seeing an aging David Gahan (I'm not even going to guess at his age, because after seeing him in those tight pants, I'm sure I'll guess too high) strutting and prancing around the stage, his voice ravaged, his belly and bum-bum drooping all about (no one could have told him he wasn't the sexiest man alive in that moment, either), it was all I could do to hold in my guts and make it through the entire show. Which is to say nothing about the music Depeche Mode has been making these years. Don't get me wrong, I'm not wholly irreverent--I grew up to this band, and I still own Depeche Mode records (albeit dusty ones), but you really must take my word on this: If you have DM tickets in your possession, don't be duped by nostalgia. SELL THEM. But you won't take my advice in the end, I know it. And you'll actually go see this train wreck. Ewww, you're going to be very, very sorry. JEFF DeROCHE

WOMAD USA
(Marymoor Park) See preview this issue.

You went to Depeche Mode yesterday, didn't you? And now you're sick, right? We thought so. Take tonight to rest, and next time, for christ's sake, listen to us.

JONATHAN RICHMAN, PERNICE BROTHERS
(Crocodile) See preview this issue.

VISION OF DISORDER, NOTHINGFACE, SP UNLIMITED, HIMSA
(Graceland) As metal bandwagons hit the road this summer, there's a landfill of shit to separate from the shinola. Luckily for metalheads hungry for action this week, New York's Vision of Disorder is a cut above the rest. The band obviously studied hard when Alice in Chains was on the modern-rock curriculum, as Vision of Disorder frontman Tim Williams does a damn fine Layne Staley impersonation. To his credit, Williams can also scream like he possesses the winds of Satan in his lungs, unleashing focused aggression one moment and slipping back through the band's sludgy Sabbath riffs the next. With Vision of Disorder, prepare for the modern metal shinola to the hit the fan for once. JENNIFER MAERZ

REX HOBART & THE MISERY BOYS, RURAL PICTURES
(Tractor Tavern) See preview this issue.

JONATHAN RICHMAN, PERNICE BROTHERS
(Crocodile) See preview this issue.

THOMAS MAPFUMO
(Bohemian Backstage) After AIDS claimed the life of Feli Anikulapo-Kuti in 1997, sub-Saharan Africa had only one superstar musician left, and that was Thomas Mapfumo. Mapfumo began his career performing rock and roll in the '60s, and then--for the sake of the black-liberation wars of the '70s--produced traditional forms of Zimbabwean music. In the '90s, he became globally famous, and now at the start of the 21st century, his heavy face is the very symbol of Africa's boundless sorrow. Despite the weariness that streams through his moody music, Mapfumo is a dynamic performer. In all honesty, I have yet to see one bad show by this man we call the Lion of Zimbabwe. CHARLES MUDEDE

GREEN DAY, THE LIVING END
(Paramount Theatre) Say what you will about the combined intelligence of Green Day's members, but nothing can be said against the band's ability to put on a great fucking rock show. I've witnessed them performing in moods that range from ecstatic to angry to playful to self-aggrandizing--separately, and all at one time. Not many bands can pull that off with such seamless grace. Did I just use the word 'grace' to describe Green Day? I think I did. KATHLEEN WILSON

THE BUSINESS, AGNOSTIC FRONT, THE NERVE AGENTS, F-MINUS
(Graceland) "This is rebellious music for rebellious people," once stated the Front's frontman Roger Miret. Sure enough, these New York hardcore pioneers are misanthropic, antagonistic, vengeful, and testosterone-fueled. Exactly what you require from your punk, right? Tension, aggression, heat, and blistering guitar chords, no quarter given and none asked for. Punk, as in old-school punk, as in sinews straining and muscles rippling punk, as in 'I think I'll stay at home away from all the scary creatures thank you very much' punk. Agnostic Front may have displayed suspiciously right-leaning views in the past--support for vigilantes--but maybe that was just the guys' volatile natures coming to the fore. Certainly, if 1999's sweltering Riot, Riot Upstart album is anything to go by, then expect a few bruises by the night's end. EVERETT TRUE

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