Thursday 9/3

Emeralds, Danava, Wildildlife, Bogus Tokus

(Chop Suey) Emeralds just sent demos of an album they've been working on that makes me think that Frank Kozik should resurrect his Man's Ruin label and release them. On this new batch of bong-centric songs, Emeralds churn out a robust strain of stoner rock that flares and billows with Deep Purple–ish abandon. Their sense of dynamics, ear for classic guitar/bass/keyboard textures, and reliance on downward chord progressions reveal a studied yet visceral approach to the heavy rock that first flourished during Richard M. Nixon's reign. Local trio Wildildlife bring hell-raising fun, stylistic diversity, and psychedelic dimension (and sometimes dementia) to metal's often grimace-intensive approach. Danava have a very cool logo. DAVE SEGAL

Dungen, Woods, Brawley Banks

(Neumos) Brawley Banks are the new, highly recommended band formed by ex–Cobra High frontman Justin Schwartz and guitarist Joram Young, as well as Sunny Day Real Estate drummer William Goldsmith, Red Stars Theory guitarist Tonie Palmasani, Blessed Light bassist German Nuestro, and keyboardist Ben Strehle. Whew! As one might expect from such a pedigree, the (super)group have hit the ground running, playing well-received shows at the War Room, Crocodile, and now Neumos. Their sound is in step with the city's current wave of rootsy '70s revivalism—though Brawley Banks' take is more bluesy than folky—and if that's your bag, you couldn't ask for it to be done much better than this. I wasn't super impressed with Woods last time I saw them live, but their psychy folk songs—which occasionally erupt into electrified, distorted noise—sound plenty sweet on record; maybe I just caught an off night. ERIC GRANDY

Friday 9/4

Victor Shade, Grynch, Born Anchors, the Redwood Plan

(High Dive) See My Philosophy.

Daniel Johnston, the Dead Science, Kimya Dawson

(Neumos) Call me an indie-rock Philistine (I've been called worse), but I never really got into Daniel Johnston. (All apologies to Kurt's tees, but I never did Flipper much, either.) To me, Johnston was always That Crazy Singer-Songwriter Guy from Texas Who Isn't Roky Erickson (man, those guys should really team up on some Pancho & Lefty 2010 shit). This situation has been recently ameliorated via an introduction to Johnston's Yip/Jump Music: Summer 1983, which may or may not be one of his more canonical cassettes—I don't know—but it sounds pretty sweet playing on a stereo in someone's room while the summer breeze plays with the curtains. Johnston's music remains a messy, fractured, and wonder-struck take on classic pop rock; tonight he performs backed by noirish, avant-jazz rock trio the Dead Science. ERIC GRANDY See also Stranger Suggests.

Black Stax, Steelo

(Rendezvous) Black Stax consist of Felicia Loud plus Silent Lambs Project's Jace ECAj and Silas Black. Black Stax are basically Silent Lambs Project's experiment (or encounter) with soul, featuring Loud, one of the best soul singers in town. The three are working on an album, due later this year, and their music can be described as elegant, refined, and classical. Two forces are active in Black Stax's work: one that pulls them down to the ground of tradition (the classical) and another that lifts them up to the regions of art (the progressive). Listening to Black Stax's hiphop is like walking through a gallery filled with images of black modernity. CHARLES MUDEDE

Richard Cheese & Lounge Against the Machine, Project: Pimento

(Showbox at the Market) Sublime, the Offspring, Beastie Boys—how I loathe thee. Is there anything more annoying than songs like "Wrong Way," "Come Out and Play," and "Fight for Your Right"? Yes, actually, there is: lounge versions of these songs as performed by comedian Richard Cheese. Sound amusing? It's not. The proof is in the pudding: Dick Cheese (get it?) rarely tackles more than one verse and chorus of his schmaltzy covers. If the joke runs thin after a minute, why the hell did the tired shtick deserve eight fucking albums? Well, someone must find this one-trick pony entertaining, because he's playing at the Showbox at the Market. It's frustrating enough that these songs were ever popular to begin with, but now this? C'mon, irony is a dead scene, folks. BRIAN COOK

Woven Hand, the Pill Thief, the Bad Things

(Chop Suey) David Eugene Edwards, son of a preacher man and goth-country superstar, got his start with the band 16 Horsepower and has been touring with his more explicitly Christian outfit, Woven Hand, since 2002. A bona fide evangelical who's toured with the Pogues and Morphine, Edwards taps a well of old-time, fire-and-brimstone religion. His songs sound like the forgotten backwoods of the Victorian era: gasoline and rattlesnakes and tortured, passionate voices ringing through the swamps. Edwards's cosmos is a haunting, chilling place. The Pill Thief create creepy, slow psychedelic blues. And the Bad Things are a local cirque noir/Gypsy-punk crew, with the obligatory accordions and drinking-song choruses. BRENDAN KILEY

The Curious Mystery, Strix Vega, Blood Red Dancers, Scriptures

(Comet) The bands that the Curious Mystery make me think of are some of my favorites from when I first learned how to give a damn about music: Mazzy Star, the Breeders, the Pixies, the Kelley Deal 6000. That's partially due to Shana Cleveland's delightfully off-kilter vocals—the woman's never met a note she couldn't just barely miss, to delicious effect—but the guitar work, so tuneful and halting, sounds like the very best that the 1990s had to offer. It's been a while since I've heard something so plaintive and emotive that didn't somehow miss the point with too much drama, or too little skill. The Curious Mystery hit that wonderful sweet spot every goddamned time. PAUL CONSTANT

Dave Matthews Band, G. Love & Special Sauce, Yonder Mountain String Band

(Gorge Amphitheatre) I'm sure I've heard Dave Matthews Band, but never willingly—and, as far as I can ascertain, they've never made the slightest impression on my consciousness. Consensus opinion from people I respect indicates I may be leading a charmed life to have lived so long unaware of DMB's catalog. A trawl through their YouTube-age proves that it's probably more exciting to peruse the group's bank statements than it is to listen to their music, a beiger-than-beige, slope-shouldered attempt at "soulful" rock. That obviously skilled, millionaire musicians can create such nondescript songs is remarkably depressing—as is the probability that DMB will sell out these three dates at the Gorge. DAVE SEGAL

Reid Speed, Sir Kutz, Soulkid, Sonny Chiba, Nefarious

(Heaven) Los Angeles's Reid Speed is one of the few prominent female DJs in the hypermasculine world of drum 'n' bass. A 13-year veteran on the circuit, she earned a spot on DJ Dara's elite Breakbeat Science label, through which she released the outstanding mix Life After Dark in 2003. Her latest mix disc, Under the Influence (Moist Music), finds Speed moving away from ferocious jungle cuts and into bass-line electro and fidget house—and more elaborate makeup technique, if the cover photo is any indication. Although her own recent productions reveal an immersion in current London bass-centric idioms, odds are she'll bust out her more accessible plates/MP3s for this gig at Heaven. DAVE SEGAL

Saturday 9/5

Bumbershoot

(Seattle Center) See guide.

Dave Matthews Band, G. Love & Special Sauce, Yonder Mountain String Band

(Gorge Amphitheatre) See Friday.

The Fucking Eagles, Ty Segall, Jeff the Brotherhood, the Beets

(Comet) The Fucking Eagles have a new Johnny Sangster–produced CD called Midnight Sour. Ty Segall just put out one of my favorite new CDs of the summer, called Lemons, on Goner Records. For me, seeing them both play live, for the first time ever, at one of my favorite bars in the city, is gonna be anything BUT a sour lemon. I think it's gonna be the sweetest lemonade I've ever tasted. And I know I'll be thirsty, because both bands make sweet and celebratory garage rock that you have to dance to—or at least bounce around to until your hair sticks to your forehead in a sweaty mess. KELLY O

Davila 666, Mannequin Men, Idle Times, Backward Masks

(Funhouse) If you were bored with Black Lips' last couple albums (how couldn't you be after 2007's "live" Los Valientes del Mundo Nuevo?), don't worry too much. Puerto Rico's Davila 666 mine similar territory, and based on last year's self-titled long-player on In the Red, they do a fine job filling any void that might be left in the garage-rock genre. From the lingering "Tú" to the outright rocker "Callejón," these dudes are apparently incapable of writing a bad tune. That most of the lyrics are sung in Spanish only adds to the catchiness here. I'm torn between this show and the Fucking Eagles and Ty Segall at the Comet, but I'm definitely giving these guys my money tonight. GRANT BRISSEY

DJ Jenny Hoyston, DJ Mathematix, DJ Dewey Decimal

(Chop Suey) I've never seen Erase Errata frontwoman (and solo proprietor of Paradise Island) Jenny Hoyston spin a DJ set, but if her record crates are anything like her bands, they'll be loaded with dark and discordant new wave; righteously, riotously agitated dance punk; and the odd, sinister club (or dub) rhythm. It should be a blast. The occasion for Hoyston's set is the latest return of on-again, off-again dance night Lick!, a party for "dykes, trannies, fags, and friends" hosted by local DJs Mathematix and Dewey Decimal. Here's hoping they keep the night out of retirement for a while. ERIC GRANDY

The Casualties, Krum Bums, Mouth Sewn Shut, Insurgence

(Neumos) For nearly 20 years, New York City's the Casualties have been the back-patch band of choice for crust-punk kids nationwide. While CBGB is an abandoned hole, the Warped Tour is a joke sponsored by Denny's, and three of the original Ramones are in the ground, the Casualties are still wearing their Mohawks high while kicking out blistering skate punk that sounds just like it did in the '80s. And unlike many of their peers (ahem, Anti-Flag), they never signed to a major, not even in the early '00s when every punk band in the world was doing it. Gotta give the Casualties props for consistency, if nothing else. MEGAN SELING

Sunday 9/6

Bumbershoot

(Seattle Center) See guide.

Cass McCombs, Papercuts

(Sunset) See preview.

Dave Matthews Band, G. Love & Special Sauce, Yonder Mountain String Band

(Gorge Amphitheatre) See Friday.

Outrageous Cherry, Devon Williams, Tim and the Time Machines, the Knast

(Comet) See Stranger Suggests.

Freezepop, Anamanaguchi, Ambulance for Angeles, Blunderbear, Ocean of Algebra

(El Corazón) Math geeks unite! Freezepop are coming to Seattle for this weekend's Penny Arcade Expo, but if you're not quite geeky enough to score tickets to that, you can still enjoy the electronically inclined, math-loving group tonight at El Corazón. Freezepop construct their songs with keytars, computers, old video-game sound bites, and lots of facts about numbers and science. For example, to sing along with the song "Science Genius Girl," you'll have to know the golden ratio (1.6180339887498948482...). But worry not, un-nerdy types, they also have songs about partying and being awesome. Strap on your calculator watches—it's time to party. MEGAN SELING

Bonnie Raitt & Taj Mahal

(Chateau Ste. Michelle) Bonnie Raitt's long-awaited commercial breakthrough, fueled by the bland-by-Raitt's standards Grammy magnet Nick of Time, was so complete it threatened to eradicate memory of her artistically superior early work. Decades before her middle-aged music became a staple of waiting rooms and Warm 101 FM, young Bonnie Raitt was creating deep, grown-up love songs and performing them fearlessly. To highlight but one example: "Nothing Seems to Matter," from 1972's Give It Up, in which she unfurls the lines, "The night is getting late/And I'm alone with just the ache/And the memory of you/Inside me..." so mellifluously that only at the end do you realize your whole body is blushing. DAVID SCHMADER

Monday 9/7

Bumbershoot

(Seattle Center) See guide.

David Allan Coe, Brent Amaker and the Rodeo, Philo Beddoe, Bullitt County

(El Corazón) All right, he's a Mormon. And he plays guitar on a rig that's decorated with the Stars and Bars. And I'd probably hate him in real life. But David Allan Coe's got that outlaw country down just about perfect—what he lacks in Merle Haggard–style vocal gruffness, he more than makes up for with Haggard-style attitude. Coe will never be a legend like Waylon Jennings, and the thing is that he knows it, and that bitterness has made him mean. It's hick-style gangsta rap, high drama for the cheap seats. And if you say that kind of ferocious proselytizing about the special kind of pride that comes from poverty ain't country, son, you can kiss my ass. PAUL CONSTANT

Tuesday 9/8

Patsy Cline Tribute: Star Anna, Rachel Flotard, Kristen Ward, Kim Virant, Victoria Wimer Contreras

(Triple Door) Those who do not like the music of Patsy Cline are freaks, or communists, or maybe even Nazis. Ms. Cline had the God-given talent to flay the flesh off a song with her beautiful voice, leaving something bloody and aching and raw there onstage. And she had the dramatic skill to make you believe that bloody song whimpering on the stage was the corporeal representation of her soul. Hell, maybe it was her soul she was opening up night after night on the road, and that's why she died so young. Talented though they are, the ladies singing at this tribute night can't hold a candle to Cline, but the real sport, the joy of it, is watching them do their damnedest trying to. PAUL CONSTANT

Wednesday 9/9

999: Wizard Prison, This Blinding Light, Special Ops

(Josephine) Seattle's This Blinding Light purvey enlightened-brute psych rock that wallows in the fuzzy murk while aspiring for a higher state of consciousness. Their heavy, mantric riffing recalls Spacemen 3 and Loop's earliest recordings (Sound of Confusion, The World in Your Eyes, Heaven's End), which strove to launch the Stooges into deep space. Fellow local envelope-pushers Wizard Prison feature revered sound engineer and recent Data Breaker star Scott Colburn (aka Jabon). They plumb darker, more amorphous depths than TBL, coming off like staunch Nurse with Wound disciples, with a healthy appetite for enigmatic drift and unsettling soundscaping. Wizard Prison's all-gates-open steez makes for some weirdly compelling audio surrealism. DAVE SEGAL

Easy Star All-Stars, Dub Championz, Marmalade

(Neumos) What on earth will the Easy Star All-Stars bring us next, now that they've rendered dub versions of Pink Floyd (Dub Side of the Moon), Radiohead (OK Computer redone as, what else, Radiodread), and now the Beatles (Easy Star's Lonely Hearts Dub Band)? Seriously, they should let the fans vote. I'm rooting for Another Green World, which they won't even have to change the title of. Dub Band is the least of their three redubbing-the-classics trilogy, but it does contain a few nice moments, such as Sugar Minott's craggy "When I'm Sixty-Four" and especially the ska-flavored "She's Leaving Home," sung by Kirsty Rock. MICHAELANGELO MATOS

Widower, Shane Tutmarc, the Weight, Country Lips

(Comet) There's no shortage of half-assed singer-songwriters hoping to be the next Gram Parsons or Bob Dylan. Though cut from the Americana cloth, the Weight openly condemn the weekend-warrior acoustic-guitar slinger. And with good reason—their 2004 album Ten Mile Grace was an earnest gut-wrenching affair, a surprisingly sincere country album made by punks that sounds more KMPS than KEXP. But with frontman Joseph Plunket's recent relocation from the Deep South to Brooklyn, there is reason to fear the band might've lost their twang, drawl, and unvarnished authentic charm. Sure enough, their latest album, The Weight Are Men, isn't quite the sad Southern jukebox collection of their debut, but it still comes across as far more genuine than your average faux-folk indie act. BRIAN COOK