JURASSIC 5, BINARY STAR, ONRY OZZBORN, JUSE BOOGY & TWIXX, DJ B-MELLO
(Hub Ballroom) J5 again? At $22 a ticket? How will this be pulled off, a mere three months after the group played Bumbershoot? The answer is in the venue. This will be big-time fun for the college kids (who only have to pay $16), and college students have proven to be a solid market for the hiphop industry. Envision UW kids bobbing back and forth to the J5's cheery, polished nostalgia in the venue with the worst acoustics in town. But I can't be too pessimistic about the show, because Binary Star is also on the bill. Masters of the Universe, the 2000 release from this Pontiac, Michigan duo, is great. While emcees I Anonymous and Senim Sillaa can be a bit obsessive about all those darn "wack MCs" out there, they imbue their otherwise thoughtful, meaningful raps with a sophisticated sense of rhythm. It's nice on the ears, and I imagine they'll take this polished formula to the stage. Lastly, Twixx and Juse Boogy are breakdancers from the local Massive Monkeys crew, and the Massive Monkeys are fantastic. This also means there will be plenty of breakdancers in attendance, so count on dance circles forming in the crowd, which always makes for a fun night. BRIAN GOEDDE

SHELBY LYNNE, DELBERT McCLINTON, RYAN ADAMS
(Paramount Theatre) See Stranger Suggests.

NORTEC COLLECTIVE, SCAPEGOAT WAX
(I-Spy) The Nortec Collective, with its dozen or so musicians, produces the sound of Mexico colliding with Southern California. At this hyper-tense border, Mexico's optimistic ranchera guitars, banda sinaloense horns, and Norteño style of tune and melody are met with the mechanical gloss of electronica music--a technology that warps, echoes, and gives bass to it. Although this year's release, The Tijuana Sessions Vol. I, has a few low points, the Nortec musicians are skilled and insightful enough to keep this blend, which could so easily be gimmicky and schlocky, perpetually interesting. You'll move your body all night while keeping your head tuned to Nortec's soundscapes. BRIAN GOEDDE

PSYCHEDELIC FURS, ECHO & THE BUNNYMEN
(Moore Theater) There aren't many bands from the '80s whose live shows consistently do justice to their heydays. Surprisingly, both Echo & the Bunnymen and Psychedelic Furs recently played Seattle dates that not only showcased what made them such critically acclaimed bands 20 years ago, but managed to make new fans out of the few who attended merely out of curiosity. Furs frontman Richard Butler's mood was radiant, and his gloriously ragged vocals have not mellowed over the years. Echo & the Bunnymen's Ian McCulloch is still the petulant performer, his crystal, versatile voice as evocative as ever, and Will Sergeant's eclectic guitar playing sounds wild and creative, even on the Bunnymen's newest songs. Go, and be not afraid. KATHLEEN WILSON

ALPHA YAYA DIALLO
(Ballard Firehouse) Music has been a long-standing, if unreliable, escape route from the Third World to the West. Salsa bands from Havana can usually come to South Florida without having to put on a life jacket; Kurdish folk musicians can usually make it to Berlin without having to hide under a shipment of Persian rugs. And once in a blue moon, a fantastic songbird like the West African pop guitarist and singer Alpha Yaya Diallo can travel from Africa to Europe to America and alight gently on the Pacific Northwest shoulder of the United States. But these days, when we think of émigrés traversing continents to spread ideas, we think of terrorists. And the State Department, taking the lead, is making it tougher and tougher for anyone, including musicians, to come to our pristine shores. So celebrate the ones who made it just in time, the ones like Alpha Yaya Diallo and his jazzed African folk-pop, who will continue to make America a more interesting place. NATHAN THORNBURGH

TOMAHAWK, DJ SWAMP
(Graceland) DJ Swamp makes goth hiphop. This may seem unlikely--the goth contingent being ghostly sedated, hiphop being flush with emotional life--but it's not, as goth and hiphop both meet in death. Not the death of the genres themselves, but the fixation on death that characterizes both forms. Many rappers are obsessed with death and murder, of course, but rap music also relies on the death of live instruments. As a consequence, the turntables spin around and around in spooky sedation, the kind of vibe that the goth kids really groove on. So it makes sense that a DJ would become hypnotized into a gothic trance. I can't say I much like DJ Swamp's industrial/hiphop/Halloween style, but it's logical, and logic will always be defended in the pages of this newspaper. See also Stranger Suggests. BRIAN GOEDDE

DJ ICY ICE, LIL RICKY & KUTFATHER, BULAK & PRO QUICK, ASHA
(I-Spy) DJ Icy Ice is one of the original members of the Beat Junkies, the L.A. crew that has been instrumental in exalting the DJ to headlining status. Hiphop, in fact, began with the DJ as the centerpiece, but of course all the loud-mouthed rappers had to hog the stage, and the rest is, as they say, history. Many MCs deserved to hog the stage, of course, but the DJ fell back into the James Cromwell syndrome of only being allowed to have a "supporting role." The fingertips of Icy Ice have pushed the turntables back to the spotlight, partly by using a medium that also gets sorely neglected: the radio. For five years Icy Ice has been a celebrity in L.A. through KKBT, a.k.a. "The Beat," mixing records with such finesse that people regularly attend his live sets. BRIAN GOEDDE

PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES, HELLA, CALLISTO, C.O.C.O.
(I-Spy) Before I'd ever heard Hella's music, my lover described this Sacramento band as the one whose drummer "makes the drummer from Lightning Bolt look like a pussy." Since I'm a firm believer in the greatness of Lightning Bolt (and the seemingly infinite endurance of its awesome drummer), of course I was skeptical. But he was right, and I was floored. I now believe that Hella is the greatest spazz-core duo in the entire world. Through heavy guitar composition (courtesy of Zach Hill) that's so intricate it sounds like six people playing instead of one, and the aforementioned enduring, well-versed-in-the-double-bass drummer, Spencer Seim, Hella creates the perpetually hard-hitting cacophony you'd expect. But the band doesn't rely entirely on musical prowess and audience exhaustion--Hella writes some pretty melodies that flower up from the assault like little gifts. The group will be releasing a record on 5 Rue Christine in early 2002. And, um, the band's name is HELLA! HI! (This is an all-ages afternoon show.) JULIANNE SHEPHERD

SAUL WILLIAMS, FCS NORTH
(I-Spy) As a slam poet, Saul Williams devises wordplay that is intricate and indulgent, displaying the command of language that defines good poets. He even made a beautiful song years back, "Twice the First Time," which appears on a number of different compilations. That song manages to find the place where rap and slam poetry intersect beautifully: Williams' overall, thundering expression (the slam poem) is actually articulated better in the song's context. But with his new, debut LP, Amethyst Rock Star, Williams has attempted to make a rock album, and it's a bad one. In rock and roll, Williams' natural predecessors--populists putting poetry to music--would be the likes of Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen. But Williams is not a cowboy poet. He plays with words for words' sake, constructing castles out of speech, and such an approach to language is not treated well by aggressive guitars and thrashing drums. It belongs to the synthesized, intellectual musculature of hiphop. The last time I saw Williams perform, it was fun regardless. But this really should be a hiphop show. BRIAN GOEDDE

DJ DUSK, BRIAN GOEDDE, DJ SUSPENCE, DJ SHINGI
(Nation) See Stranger Suggests.

SLAYER, CHIMAIRA, AMERICAN HEADCHARGE
(Showbox) For those interested, Slayer is in town tonight.

CONVERGE, AMERICAN NIGHTMARE, THE HOPE CONSPIRACY, THRICE
(Paradox) At the risk of being murdered by my West Coast cronies, I will venture to say again that East Coast-born hardcore has always been a little tougher and scarier than ours--if only because of the constant existence of the powerful band Converge. (Really, Converge is tougher than you and me. I mean, what West Coast hardcore band has a webpage that greets viewers with Flash-generated blood spatters? At the very least, Converge has a tougher graphic designer than you.) Going on its 10th year of existence (and playing what is possibly the band's 7,000th show), Converge exists in between hardcore and metal, with screaming guitars and chunky chords, vocals that wail and scrape like a wounded hawk, and lyrics drenched in the sanguinary. The band is joined this evening by labelmates and Boston hardcore brethren American Nightmare and Hope Conspiracy. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

THE SUNSHINE FIX, CALL AND RESPONSE, MICROPHONES
(Crocodile) Elephant 6's obvious neo-psychedelic leader is Neutral Milk Hotel's Jeff Mangum, but Olivia Tremor Control's Bill Doss has written his share of excellent lo-fi melodies. Doss' newest, ever-evolving, side project is the Sunshine Fix, an airy and eerie '60s-inspired pop-country romp that veers into toxically sweet territory but saves itself by keeping the breezy tone just slightly off kilter. The new record (out in January on Emperor Norton Records) may sound like the Beach Boys had a backyard barbecue and put members of Pink Floyd in charge of the grill, but the studio was actually full of various members of Essex Green, Of Montreal, Great Lakes, Japancakes, and Vic Chesnutt's backing band. As for the rest of the bill, Call and Response's California-dreaming ditties may give you a cavity and drive you to the Crocodile's back bar, but don't even think about missing euphoria-inducing openers the Microphones. HANNAH LEVIN

JOHN WESLEY HARDING
(Century Ballroom) Though he recently relocated to New York City, British singer/songwriter John Wesley Harding's two-plus-year residence in Seattle garnered him many faithful local fans. A chatty live performer, Harding pens songs packed with vibrant anecdotes and poignant tales, making him one of folk-rock's most inspired, engaging storytellers. KATHLEEN WILSON

CLUTCH, BIOHAZARD, CANDIRIA, KIDNEY THIEVES
(Graceland) We're at war in the Middle East, unemployment's on the rise, and freakish diseases are in the news. Feels like 1991 all over again. It must be time to pawn your weepy Brit pop CDs and reacquaint your angry self with the unfettered aggression of thrash metal. You can start with the furious live show of the Germantown, Maryland quartet Clutch, which has for the past decade spliced Dan Maines' heavy funk bass lines and Tim Sult's menacing metal riffs with a bluesy Appalachian aesthetic that rivals bands like Faith No More. Neil Fallon's preternatural growl on songs like "Pure Rock Fury" and "The Soapmakers" will incite your inner anarchist. And, shit, no one does raw suburban rage like Biohazard. Remember 1992's Urban Discipline, with its blistering anthem "Punishment"? Hell, these Brooklyn-based speed rockers practically invented the hiphop-hardcore formula that Limp Bizkit later parlayed into a Top 40 cash cow. Biohazard's new album, Uncivilization, sounds just as pissed-off, political, and relevant as the group's debut did 10 years ago. And a goddamn Bush is still in the White House. Go figure. DAVID SLATTON

NEIL DIAMOND
(KeyArena) Do you long for a return to simpler times, when a single long-stemmed rose meant romance? When a swirling stage light cutting through a wall of "smoke" spelled showmanship? When a rhinestone-bedazzled black satin shirt laid open to the bellybutton signaled sex appeal? Do you miss those halcyon days when turning on the radio anytime, anywhere guaranteed that the soothing strains of a perfectly constructed pop song written and sung by Neil Diamond would drill mercilessly into your skull and lodge there for the rest of your natural life? Well, fret no more, my nostalgic friend, for the maestro of the AM airwaves is back! This balding, mild-mannered fellow in form-fitting Spandex has written more hummable hits than you have teeth. For the spine-tingling genius of "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" alone--his heartbreaking duet with Barbra Streisand--Diamond deserves not only your ticket money, but your goddamned unironic respect as well. TAMARA PARIS