SLICE OF THE APPLE w/ADAM GOLDSTONE
(Catwalk) I usually resist art that uses its New York status as a focal point. Any chump can take a picture of himself smoking a cigarette on a cast-iron fire escape. But I'll have to swallow my civic pride for tonight, because Adam Goldstone promises a great DJ set. His recently released debut, Lower East Side Stories, which attempts to capture the many moods of that neighborhood in Manhattan (gag! gag!) is quite good. Goldstone is comfortable with a variety of electronica styles--from carnivalesque dance rhythms to industrial clangings to slick club beats--and although the album is supposed to sonically represent the diversity and splendor of the Big Apple (gag! gag!), its excellence allows me to overlook its pretense. BRIAN GOEDDE
THE STANDARD, HELIO SEQUENCE, THE DROP
(Graceland) See Stranger Suggests.
EYES ADRIFT
(I-Spy) Quietly throwing his hat into the "supergroup" ring, former Nirvana member Krist Novoselic is joined by Meat Puppets guitarist Curt Kirkwood and Sublime/Long Beach Dub Allstars drummer Bud Gaugh in the new alt-country-flavored trio Eyes Adrift. Amid all the legal wrangling in which Novoselic is currently embroiled with former bandmate Dave Grohl against Courtney Love and her theatrical pursuit of the rights to all things Nirvana, the bassist is excited to be playing music and finishing the album Eyes Adrift began recording in Austin, Texas, last December. Philosophically, Novoselic sums up the motivation for beginning anew like this: "In regards to where I've been, dealing with something that, quite literally, has such huge mythos can make you forget the genesis of the whole shebang--music." Well put. Tonight's show kicks off the band's West Coast tour. KATHLEEN WILSON
SEATTLE COMPOSERS SALON w/AMY DENIO, DAVID MESLER, JOSH FEIT
(Benaroya Hall) Folks who have seen Stranger news editor Josh Feit performing in town (at the Showbox's All Things to All People, or the Young Composers Salon in Lake City) might already be familiar with pieces from his lovely and unique teen Spiderman opera I, Clone. Tonight Feit will be staging a cantata called "Tehran Glitter," which he wrote for violin, piano, tape loop, and opera voice. I've never heard the piece personally, but Feit tells me it's about "two of the saddest things from the '70s: glitter rock and the 1979 hostage crisis." The lyrics are taken from Elton John's "Bennie and the Jets," and the tape loop is of an Iranian student speaking from the seized U.S. Embassy in Tehran in 1979. JEFF DeROCHE
NEW BOMB TURKS, ZEKE, FLAMETHROWER, THE CATAHOULA HOUNDS
(Graceland) Perhaps the reason behind Columbus, Ohio's New Bomb Turks' longevity is frontman Eric Davidson's keen wit, which he isn't afraid to bury occasionally for sake of a good ol' dumb-but-catchy lyric. That, and the fact that this high-octane garage-punk band hasn't changed its tune much since it first burst on the scene with 1992's Destroy Oh Boy!. New Bomb Turks share tonight's bill with three like-minded local bands, including Flamethrower, which plays hard, furious punk at breakneck tempos. KATHLEEN WILSON
BUCKSHOT, SMIF N WESSUN, DJ LOGIC, CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE, DJ SCENE
(Ethnic Cultural Center, UW Campus) Hiphop's best years are from 1993 to 1997, and one of the defining crews of that wonderful period is the Brooklyn-based Duck Down posse, which was made up of roughly four bands (Helter Skelter, Smif N Wessun, Boot Camp Click, and Black Moon). The central band of the Duck Down posse was Black Moon, its main rapper was Buckshot, and the song that crowned all their gangsta-bleak, beat-heavy efforts was Black Moon's darkling gem "Who Got Da Props?" Though the members of the Duck Down posse were proud "gun clappers," the violence in their lyrics never stood alone, but was embedded in the most beautiful, and at times even magical, beats. Tonight, Smif N Wessun and Buckshot return from the past and bring to life what was the greatest period in hiphop music. CHARLES MUDEDE
THE TREY GUNN BAND, CA GUITAR TRIO
(I-Spy) This show is like a barometer for how progressive rock's flirtation with classical music can have both the greatest and worst effects on it. California Guitar Trio checks in at the "cheese" end of the spectrum. The band's most recent record covers songs from Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" to Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition" in a baroque, all-guitar fashion. While the members of CGT are all extremely talented, their music is a big fat snoozefest: the exact music they pump into the aromatherapy room at my gym. Trey Gunn (a.k.a. the young fellow from King Crimson), however, is slightly more experimental. Armed with a trillion-string guitar and a Mellotron, Trey is mostly interesting, playing some hot riffs that showcase his fiery talent. But be warned: He plays "ambient funk jams." If you're not content with watching talented musicians wank on semi-interesting music, I would advise you to sit at home with a copy of King Crimson's Red or In the Court of the Crimson King. JULIANNE SHEPHERD
POPS SPOILER & HIS DEADBEATS, THE PLASTARDS, CHEEKY WHITE DEVILS
(Bob's World Famous Java Jive) Get in touch with our region's dirty roots: Muddy your boots in Tacoma's Nalley Valley (yup, where the pickles come from) at Bob's Java Jive--the visionary teapot-shaped-on-the-outside, jungle-decorated-on-the-inside bar--where you can get down with these hard-workin', sleazy, beefy Tacoma boys who get the ladies shakin' their collective ass and the punks fistfighting in back. The last time I saw Pops & Co. at the Jive, I became so moist from dance, we had to drive home with the windows down. The music and the Jive will take you back to a time (and fast-forward you into the not-so-far-off future) when this city was blue-collar industrial grey territory filling the void with rough sex garage rock. No coffee, just lots of cheap beer and jugs o' wine. Rumor has it that the Java Jive may be smashed to bits by the City of Tacoma for a bigger bus parking lot. I'm certain it won't be around forever (the bathroom sinks lower every time you piss), but it is the best down-and-dirty, cheap beer, old-school Northwest dive (complete with potential psychopaths and one tough, voluptuous bartender), and a perfect, genuinely splendid cheap thrill from an important, historical, almost holy place. Dig it while you can or live a life of regret. The choice is yours. RACHEL KESSLER
FABULOUS WAILERS
(Easy Street Records) Lordy, Lordy... have my eyes seen the glory!! The glory of the comin' of the BOYS!? The boys from Tacoma that is... the Fabulous Wailers!!! Dig, and they're playin' MY neighborhood... they gots an "in store" at the Easy Street Records of BALLARD!!! This hot on the heels of a brand new LP TOO!!! The Wailers, a popular local instrumental band in 1959, were really the FIRST buncha white kids to cross over to the black rock 'n' roll WITHOUT any "a-billy" sound as they "beat" Little Richard into Link Wray's shoes... like, with "Dirty Robber" they essentially BEAT the English to the first beat 45! Anyway, this'll be the first time I've see 'em in years--they always play when I go on holiday.... MIKE NIPPER
You're dead to me.
2-0-$ICKNESS SHOWCASE w/BABY C, SUBLYMMINAL, METASIN, ISOLATED M-PYRE, REBELZ, T-MACN
(Ballard Firehouse) Baby C made a splash nationally with the singles "Mob with Me" and "If You Want Some (Come and Get Some)," landing him the opening slot at KUBE's 2000 Gorge concert, as well as a short spot on The Jenny Jones Show. The new 2-0-$ickness compilation Albulation features Baby C with Metasin and Sublymminal, and I don't know who the others are, except that they must be up in the crew. In case you didn't catch it, the name is our area code, collided with "sickness" and stamped with a money sign. I think this is awfully clever. Except that a few of my other friends used to say "I have the 2-0-sickness" to say they were sick of Seattle. We need to get a final word on the use of this slang, everyone. BRIAN GOEDDE
OXYGEN LOUNGE: TONY GRASSO, (r), TERMINAL I.F., BILL HORIST
(Rainbow) The highlight of this bill will be Bill Horist, who hasn't performed his solo act since his coast-to-coast tour in September. Horist plays guitar, but it's not what you think. Far from it. He takes found objects and inserts them in his guitar strings--much like John Cage's prepared piano sonatas--and by means of an editing machine, layers the sounds one by one until they congeal into an industrial anti-pastoral soundscape. What wins me over every time, though, is Horist's stage presence, which is almost that of a standup comedian. To start with, the guy looks just like Bob from the Church of the Subgenius. If you enjoyed the eclectic compositions at the Bed of Sound exhibit at the Henry last summer, you'll also like (r), a brooding ambient group from Italy, and Terminal I.F. from Atlanta. KREG HASEGAWA
JAY FARRAR, BRIAN HENNEMAN
(Showbox) Since Uncle Tupelo's 1994 breakup, Jay Farrar has hewn closely to Tupelo's overall sound while giving it his own stamp. With Son Volt's 1995 debut, Trace, Farrar set out to attain the high marks of the traditional country songwriting he admired, and marry it to a psychically intense, rock-informed rural music. The result has been a balanced palette of country and rock that never gets too doctrinaire. With his expressive, husky voice, Farrar brings the many varieties of sadness and ache home with weariness and wisdom. The archaic and the immediate, the sentimental and the mordant, all coexist and illuminate each other in his beautiful songs. His solo release Sebastopol finds Farrar adding odd instruments and bending his voice perfectly into the hurt. Farrar doesn't stray all that far from the signature sound of his former band here, but the ways in which he does are crucial. They show a musician who understands his strengths and knows how to play to them while still challenging himself. This solo show is a great opportunity to see a true believer who makes music that is timeless, beholden only to the formidable tradition of its own creator. NATE LIPPENS
CHROMATICS, FAGATRON, MADAME MORTE, AMY BLASCHKE
(Crocodile) Whenever I mention the Chromatics to people, they immediately declare just how totally fucking sexy they think the bass player is. And it's true. She embodies the snarling, swaggering spirit of rock in a way that makes every single woman and man want to feel her heat. But that assessment leaves the rest of the band unfairly in the shadows. From the drummer and her brutally, beautifully minimalistic pounding, to the geeky, jerky wiriness that defines the guitarist and his playing, to the yelps and whines that leap from the throat of the lurching frontman, the Chromatics throw a raw physicality into their show that makes you want to dance and fuck like a teenager. DAN PAULUS
SIL2K: SLEEPYTIME GORILLA MUSEUM, DEGENERATE ART ENSEMBLE, PLEASEEASAUR
(I-Spy) Pleaseeasaur frontman J. P. Hasson recently received an intriguing job offer from KING 5. "It's some sort of part-time position assisting one of the station's producers," he tells me, "but my big goal is to take out John Curley and start hosting Evening Magazine." Let it never be said that Hasson is without lofty ambitions, and may our city's favorite furry freakazoid continue to find himself on bills this well conceived. Tonight is the closing night of Pleaseesaur's West Coast tour with Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, a thoroughly creepy ensemble of San Franciscan characters, some members of which previously ran the psycho-circus of Idiot Flesh. Their combination of disturbing, surreal visuals (members might be dressed as monks or mummies, you never know) and an elaborate outlay of homemade percussion devices and other customized instruments yields a quizzically enchanting performance that could make Mike Patton feel like an underachiever. Filling the middle slot is Degenerate Art Ensemble, a brash collective of jazzy punks fresh from a slew of shows in Berlin and currently ensconced in rehearsals for a forthcoming On the Boards production. If you missed Halloween or wished you lived in some crazy underground European artist community, this would be the ideal night to satisfy either craving. HANNAH LEVIN
SLAUGHTER & THE DOGS, THE BELL TONES, THE RIFFS
(Graceland) Having heard the new Slaughter & the Dogs release Beware Of..., I can't, in good conscience, recommend this show to anyone but the late-'70s English punk/glitter/pub rock band's truest fans. For those interested: Wayne Barrett--the band's original singer, with whom the Dogs released "Cranked Up Really High" and the New York Dolls covered "Who Are the Mystery Girls"--is currently fronting the band, which should make lapsed listeners happy. And, to the band's credit, Beware Of... is not a terrible album. It's just lumpy and mediocre. When the Dogs cover "Hard Day's Night" they sound very old. Then they follow it up with "Hell in New York," a straight-up and embarrassing ripoff of Iggy and the Stooges' "I Wanna Be Your Dog." It's at that point that I start to feel really sad. JEFF DeROCHE
CONCRETE BLONDE, MOJACAR
(Showbox) The new Concrete Blonde album, Group Therapy, brings the L.A. band together for its first new album in just about a decade, and music listeners everywhere are left to wonder what the point is. Singer/bassist Johnette Napolitano has mellowed considerably over the years since 1993's Mexican Moon, but the schmaltz factor is still high, including a painfully nostalgic tribute to Roxy Music ("Roxy"), a whimsical center spread in the CD art that features all the band's members in straitjackets, and routine, overwrought delay on Napolitano's voice. I've hummed along to several of Concrete Blonde's bombastic hooks over the years, and Napolitano is at times mesmerizing to watch, but I think I'll just stick with my Ann and Nancy Wilson, thank you. At least they never get all scary-witchy-poo on my ass. JEFF DeROCHE
