Thursday 10/22

BOAT, the Pale Pacific, Sirens Sister

(Neumos) See preview.

Yo La Tengo, Jackie-O Motherfucker

(Showbox Sodo) See Stranger Suggests, and preview.

Thao with the Get Down Stay Down, Portland Cello Project, David Shultz

(Chop Suey) Last year's breakout We Brave Bee Stings and All made Thao Nguyen an indie darling. She and the Get Down Stay Down titled their next full-length release Know Better Learn Faster, perhaps as one of those cautionary Post-it notes that never work: Next time, leave those fucking bees alone. "By the time you realize you should," Nguyen says in Faster's press release, "it's too late. And I enjoy the predicament and the totally devastating, unfunny humor of that." The welcome, bitter brew of the new disc feels more like the swirling fallout of a bad breakup than did their previously effervescent, shambolic folk pop. Their on-the-edge-of-snapping wit, shrugging playfulness, and cutely inventive instrumentation are now sharper, darker in tone, and not quite as sugary sweet, and Thao's honeylike voice is starting to crystallize. Her learning curve is our boon. LARRY MIZELL JR.

Times New Viking, Herr Jazz

(Vera) In the old days, according to conventional wisdom, punk-rock records sounded shitty because getting access to a professional-quality recording setup was prohibitively expensive. These days, you can turn a laptop into a recording studio for less than it costs to buy a used touring van. So when a record sounds shitty in 2009, it's either because the bands are just bad at recording music or it's a deliberate aesthetic choice, an intentional nod to those bygone times and their innocent "authenticity." With the backing of indie heavyweight Matador, scuzz-punks Times New Viking could presumably produce pristine pop nuggets if they wanted to, but instead, on latest album Born Again Revisited as much as on previous releases, they make a clipped, fuzzy, blown-out racket, roughing up the obvious hooks of their songs until they are bruised, bloody things. They're great live. ERIC GRANDY

The Hold Steady, DJ Lord

(Crocodile) Now, in the really, really old days, before the mass production of consumer goods such as records and the profits made possible by the mass market, artists survived thanks to the sponsorship of wealthy individual patrons. And now that the bottom has fallen the fuck out of the business of selling CDs to people, maybe we're coming back around to such times. Da Vinci had the Medicis; the Hold Steady have Southern Comfort. Tonight's show is some deal where you forfeit your basic information for target-marketing purposes and you get the privilege of seeing the Hold Steady perform at the improbably intimate Crocodile. It's always a little lame when bands do this sort of thing, but at least the Hold Steady are backed by a product that I can believe they believe in—you could easily imagine Craig Finn getting sloshed on the stuff, waking up in weird circumstances, and spinning the whole sordid escapade into yet another winningly literary bar-rock anthem. ERIC GRANDY

LTJ Bukem, MC Conrad, DJ Rectangle, DJ KrisCut

(Trinity) LTJ Bukem's still getting booked? Huh. The godfather of smooth, fluid drum 'n' bass never really inspired more than mild admiration from me, even when I thought d&b was the absolute tits in electronic music. But there's no denying the British producer/DJ's keen ear for the genre's most elegant specimens, a sensibility derived from LTJ's mad love for soulful jazz fusion. Whereas much current d&b makes you feel as if you're in a sci-fi thriller amid battering Sensurround FX, Bukem's brand of this music is upscale boho and mostly friction-free. MC Conrad will undoubtedly ask Seattle how it's doing countless times while politely demanding that Seattle "make some fucking noise." Oh, joy. DAVE SEGAL

Friday 10/23

Le Loup, Nurses, People Eating People

(Chop Suey) See preview.

Gossip, MEN, Champagne Champagne

(Showbox at the Market) Some voices are just too big to keep hidden in house shows and punk dive bars, and Gossip bandleader Beth Ditto's voice is about as big and bound-for-stardom as they come. The band went from Kill Rock Stars darlings to major-label players thanks to the breakthrough success of 2006's dance-floor empowerment anthem "Standing in the Way of Control" (and the killer Soulwax remix of same). Their new album, Music for Men, is exactly what you might expect Gossip to sound like with a Rick Rubin–produced, airplay-ready makeover: Ditto's soul-powered singing is spotlight-bright and up-front, Brace Pain's swinging guitar and bass riffs are abetted by Euro-trashed synthesizers, and Hannah Blilie's sinuous drumming has enough thump to pound through concert halls, discotheques, or just radio speakers. Opening are ex–Le Tigre gender- benders MEN and local club-rap party-starters Champagne Champagne. ERIC GRANDY

The Jesus Lizard

(Neumos) The Jesus Lizard have become one of those bands—like Pink Floyd, Fugazi, or Radiohead—that's unsuitably employed as a reference point for newer, inferior acts. Supposedly, everyone sounds like the Jesus Lizard, but really, no one sounds like the Jesus Lizard. While their growling bass lines, discordant yet precise guitar leads, atypical drumming accents, and Yow-ling vocals can be found throughout various post-genres, no one has successfully replicated the original formula. It's funny, because when the Jesus Lizard came out, critics called them a Birthday Party rip-off, which was just as off the mark. Fortunately, the Chicago quartet have returned to the scene to remind everyone that their sound is still as singular and as intense as ever. BRIAN COOK

The Redwood Plan, Erik Blood, Rosyvelt

(Sunset) What would be even cooler than the Redwood Plan headlining tonight's show at the Sunset? If the band were opening for Gossip at the Showbox, because I'm guessing plenty of Gossip fans filling that showroom tonight would fall in love with Lesli Wood's new project the instant they played their synth-laced and embittered "Expiration." While Gossip have started to drift away from their punk-rock roots, opting for a glossier disco sound (not that there's anything wrong with that), the Redwood Plan sound like they still belong in the basement—a little gritty and pissed, but still 100 percent danceable and, frankly, pretty damn sexy. MEGAN SELING

Fang, the Piss Drunks, Old Man Smithers, Schmidtaholics, Brewtal Thirst

(Funhouse) Sometimes—say, when you order a deli sandwich or when you're trying to pick out a new porn DVD—it's just nice to know exactly what you're buying. Such is the case of the Piss Drunks. I mean, here's a band that named their albums Urine Idiot and Alcoholocaust—a band that write songs like "Black Label Me," "Well Hung Over," "Cheers to Beers," "Self Abuse," and "Double Shot." If you're guessing they're a bunch of drunk dudes who don't give two shits about what anybody thinks of them, if you're guessing that they sound like simple-ass boneheaded skate punk, well, then you're absolutely right. No BS. It just is what it is. It's the band's reunion, and you can also expect to be reunited with a bunch of old skoolers from the days of the Storeroom and Gibson's. KELLY O

Saturday 10/24

Phantom Orchard

(Chapel Performance Space) Electric harpist Zeena Parkins and drummer/laptop musician Ikue Mori released one of the decade's most sublime albums with 2004's Phantom Orchard (on Austria's Mego Editions label). A hothouse of piquantly distinctive, artfully arranged sounds, the disc alternately evokes transcendently beautiful dream states and brow-furrowing uneasiness. Glancing references to gamelan and film-noir soundtracks flit throughout the album, but the music here is too mercurial and sui generis to be beholden to any strict genre classifications. Seemingly constructed with painstaking delicacy but probably recorded on the fly, the record strikes an ideal balance between the hypnotic and the restlessly dynamic, with a bounteous tonal palette as a bonus. DAVE SEGAL See also The Score, page 57.

Dan Deacon, Nuclear Power Pants, Alexis Gideon

(Vera) You know the drill: Dan Deacon's live shows are one part hyperactive avant-'tard electronic music, 10 parts summer-camp audience-participation high jinks. If that ratio works for you, Deacon's delivery cannot be beat; if it doesn't, you're probably just too old (I know I am). On record, though, Deacon can be a surprisingly compelling composer, a fact belied by his breakthrough splattershot of neon-strobing happy hardcore Spiderman of the Rings, but revealed on his more nuanced latest album, Bromst. Here, Deacon scores an inhuman polyphony of mallet instruments (marimbas, vibraphones, etc.), layering and reiterating individual notes and melodies to generate swarming drones, a cacophony-as-ambient music that might make Steve Reich smile. Still, I'd rather not hold hands with my neighbor or leapfrog around the Vera Project or any of that other enforced "fun" pep-rally bullshit. But I'm sure that's just me. ERIC GRANDY

Shonen Knife, Visqueen, Connecticut Four

(Tractor) Here, my friends, is a night designed to make you crap your pop-punk drawers. First up: Bellingham's Connecticut Four, three young women who make a wicked racket with charm to burn. ("One of us was crowned Miss Auburn 2005," states the band's MySpace bio. "The other two live with their parents.") Next up: Visqueen, the hot-shit Seattle quartet having the time of their lives banging out tracks from their brand-new Message to Garcia. Finally: Japan's all-girl answer to the Ramones, Shonen Knife, whose ability to channel the raw power of 4/4 pop punk remains awesome. DAVID SCHMADER

Sioux City Pete and the Beggars, Jail Weddings, Stabbings, 100Pieces

(Funhouse) On their MySpace page, Sioux City Pete and the Beggars list their influences as Howlin' Wolf, the Marquis de Sade, and Diamanda Galás, which sounds about right. Their droning, dirty-thrash blues doesn't cut through the air so much as thicken it like a cloud of acrid smoke. Their songs about sex, cocaine, and rock 'n' roll are both punishment and pleasure—Pete weaves trancelike up front, and the Beggars, two femmes fatales, kick their heavy beats to a pulp. In Stabbings, Pete sits at the drums while Jean-Paul Garnier (formerly of Holy Ghost Revival) plays goth synth chords and croons darkly about being a "pop princess." Then they throw down a caustic guitar scorcher or two. This will be a reasonable night of horrible noise. BRENDAN KILEY

Ghostface Killah

(Showbox at the Market) Who would have thought, way back in 1993, when Wu-Tang Clan first became nothin' to fuck wit'™, that Ghostface would wind up becoming the greatest solo rapper of the group? I would've put solid money on RZA, but Ghost has one-upped his old roommate. On one level, it makes sense. With the Wu-Tang's love of kung-fu mythology, it stands to reason that one warrior would gain the powers of all his comrades—ODB's crazy-dirty rhymes (seriously: Have you heard new single "Stapleton Sex"?), Method Man's forcefulness—to take the last triumphant stand against the forces of evil. Just because his new R&B-ish album Ghostdini: The Wizard of Poetry in the Emerald City doesn't have the same creative energy as his Fish duology doesn't mean Ghostface isn't gonna bring the Wu to a live show. Come and get it, motherfuckers. PAUL CONSTANT

Pelican, Black Cobra, Sweet Cobra

(El Corazón) Back in the day, Sonic Youth brought Mudhoney and Dinosaur Jr. on tour to show that their artier predispositions didn't compromise their love for no-frills rock. Pelican—whose last few records found the instrumental four-piece branching out from their doom and gloom into more atmospheric, complex, and upbeat territories—have also selected openers that prove that their musical maturity hasn't tempered their love for punishing riffage. Chicago's Sweet Cobra rely on little more than down-tuned power chords and unfaltering force, yet they manage to make the average hardcore band seem tepid by comparison. Guitar-and-drum duo Black Cobra are equally ferocious, and their busier compositions align them more with the metal crowd. Pelican have broadened their musical horizons, but they're still pushing the thunder. BRIAN COOK

Sunday 10/25

TC Izlam, Helladope, Spaceman, Avatar Young Blaze

(Nectar) A birthday celebration for local beatmaker Jack the Ripper brings together a heavy bill with some of the best talent in the city (and it won't cost you a dime): NYC Zulu Nation ambassador, inventor of hipstep (and son of Afrika Bambaataa) TC Izlam; Sportn' Life spitfire Spaceman; zero-G-funkers Helladope; and the snarling raps of Avatar Young Blaze. Spaceman's upcoming EP with DJ Suspence is sounding confidently huge, Avatar's street-hop mythologizes the Central District like Mobb Deep MC Prodigy does Queensbridge, and Helladope are simply the illest up-and-comers on the scene, combining collar-popping Beacon Hill brashness with genius space-boogie production. LARRY MIZELL JR.

Blitzen Trapper, Wye Oak

(Neumos) You probably know Blitzen Trapper from Portland: happy indie pop for autumn afternoons, when the rain has cleared and the sun lights up golden-leafed boughs. A vein of Neil Young's musical Americana runs beneath their harmonies and catchy chord structures, but Blitzen Trapper are too buoyant to delve into his dark side. Wye Oak, an indie-folk duo from Baltimore, hold down the moodier end. Sometimes their lush harmonies and stripped-down sound resemble Simon and Garfunkel covering Belle & Sebastian. Or vice versa. BRENDAN KILEY

Why Music: Massive Monkees, Big World Breaks, Evan Flory-Barnes, Darrius Willrich, Clarence Acox, Felicia Loud, Okanomodé, Thione Diop, Gene Tagaban, Normando Brenis, Jim Nolet, and more

(Moore) The greatest arts educator in the city of Seattle is also the most invisible: Arts Corps, which sends teaching artists in all disciplines to all corners of the city every day. It saves kids where schools fail. This year, Arts Corps is administering the Seattle wing of a national pilot project called MusicianCorps—a service organization that serves by bringing music, like a domestic Peace Corps for music, called for by President Obama. Why Music at the Moore is its kickoff fundraising event: a big, loud, hopeful concert for a good cause. JEN GRAVES

Monday 10/26

Struck by Lightning, Death Raid, Street Walker, Griffin

(Comet) The unfortunate catch-22 of metal is that it fetishizes destruction and thrives on perpetuating habits that are counterproductive to creative endeavors. True misanthropes wouldn't tolerate fans or even other band members. Matching the form to the content would require a degree of vehemence that would thoroughly stunt any sort of discipline or dedication to the craft of learning one's instrument. Thus, metal bands must forever struggle to find that authentic balance between sustaining traditional rules of music—structure, melody, and synchronicity—with the destructive, disharmonious, and oppositional nature of their art. Dayton, Ohio's Struck by Lightning nail that critical equilibrium between studied precision and nihilistic abandon, making them one of the best heavy bands to arise in recent years. BRIAN COOK

Tuesday 10/27

Trees, PussyGutt, Story of Rats, Same Sex Dictator

(Comet) Story of Rats, the solo project of Ear Venom's Garek Druss, focuses on free-floating, anxiety-inducing drones. It's an esoteric yet important niche in the vast universe of music-making, and the Seattle synthesizer/harmonium wiz does an effective job of triggering intense yet amorphous emotions through wordless, beatless pieces. Portland's Trees produce glowering, sadistic doom metal, somewhere between early Swans and early Earth, but without the blunt, basso profundo of the former's Michael Gira. Boise, Idaho's PussyGutt ooze out a solemn black shroud of aural gorgeousness, which does for orchestral goth folk what Boren & Der Club of Gore do for jazz metal: slows it to a crawl, drastically reduces its sonic footprint, and freezes your blood with its subliminal power. DAVE SEGAL

S

(Sonic Boom Ballard) Jenn Ghetto provided the hushed, haunting female foil to Mat Brooke's sullen mumble in their dearly missed former band Carissa's Wierd; S is Ghetto's long if intermittently running solo project. Carissa's Wierd buoyed her worrying with warm, live band arrangements and lyrics that turned tragedies into small, hard-bitten triumphs. Alone, or with only her own echoing voice doubling back on her, Ghetto's songs as S are significantly darker, cornered and possessed by a kind of nervous twitching anxiety. Which is not to say they don't make for fine listening or that her songs are entirely without hope or grace. Bedroom metal guitar riffing turns into spacey drone by way of chilly, lo-fi production; unexpectedly upbeat drum loops propel even the saddest songs; and throughout, Ghetto's singing is quietly commanding, the kind of voice that can hold a room with a whisper. ERIC GRANDY

The Sounds, Foxy Shazam, Semi Precious Weapons

(Showbox at the Market) We can't get enough of these good-looking Swedish pop/rock bands, can we? Witness the Sounds, whose vocalist Maja Ivarsson earned a coveted spot in Blender's "Hottest Women in Rock" feature, before that magazine folded its print operations. Besides that motivating factor to see them, the Sounds—who are touring in support of their third album, Crossing the Rubicon—write bright, shiny, spotless songs that fill one with a fleeting sense of hope. This is easily digestible, instantly catchy teen music par excellence. I've already forgotten about it. Foxy Shazam's name is better than their hollow, faux-Queen-y rock. Semi Precious Weapons play camp glam rock that's not nearly as sexy as they think it is. "I can't pay my rent, but I'm fucking gorgeous," frontfop Justin Tranter sings in the band's eponymous song. Die now. DAVE SEGAL

Meshell Ndegeocello

(Triple Door) Yes, we cannot separate Meshell Ndegeocello from the 1990s, the time period that contains the peak of her popularity. But unlike the bulk of R&B from that decade, Ndegeocello's tunes, particularly those on her first album, Plantation Lullabies, which was released in 1993 on Maverick Records, transcend their era. Also, unlike the bulk of R&B artists, Ndegeocello can play instruments. (This, of course, is something hiphop producers do not have to worry about, because they do not make music but meta-music.) I will go as far as to say that Ndegeocello is to the '90s what Sheila E. was to the '80s. Both are very talented and very beautiful women. CHARLES MUDEDE

Wednesday 10/28

Nothing happens today, but BOO! Halloween is imminent!