THURSDAY 1/31

Black Mountain, Yeasayer, MGMT, Howlin' Rain

(Neumo's) See Stranger Suggests, page 23.

FRIDAY 2/1

D. Black, Grayskul, the Physics, Kingzmen, SK

(Chop Suey) See Stranger Suggests, page 23, and My Philosophy, page 49.

Police Teeth, Lake of Falcons, the Bizmarck

(Blue Moon) To this day, I can't think of a song that uses the word "motherfucker" better than the MC5's "Kick Out the Jams." But Police Teeth's "Motherfuckers Move Slow" gives the expletive the ol' college try. Police Teeth is blistering post-hardcore with an infatuation for AC/DC and Wire, played by dudes formerly found in Racetrack and USS Horsewhip. "Motherfuckers Move Slow" is an urgent track rife with guitar riffs, which will sound superb when juxtaposed against Lake of Falcons' slightly poppier turbulence. Not into the über-catchy "Pretty Little Knife"? Maybe the more Fugazi-styled instrumentation of "Farmer's Debt" will blow your mind, or the Hot Water Music– influenced "The Smiler" (duel vocals yelling against one another and coming together for the chorus = goosebumps). Or perhaps you're totally unfamiliar? And slightly intrigued? You've got nothing to lose—tonight and every night Blue Moon has a $0 cover charge. MEGAN SELING

From the Jam

(Moore) I have NO problem with "classic" bands reforming, however, some reunions seem challenged—um, like the "it was okay, I guess" MC5 as DKT/MC5. Eesh! Well, former Jam members Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler have gotten back together, without Paul Weller, adding Russell Hastings and Dave Moore as the Jam, uh, sort of—they call themselves "From the Jam." Honestly, without Weller, I kinda don't care that they're getting back together. Weller was THE angry, sullen frontman that enabled and drove them! He WAS their attitude. So, to me, a Wellerless lineup seems a bit limp. However, English reviews are favorable, and from what I can tell, Foxton STILL has some bits of his annoying mullet, so it'll likely be just fine—they'll play their hits and do jumps and all that... really, it'll be fine... really... just fine. MIKE NIPPER

SATURDAY 2/2

Dyme Def, Scribes, KnowMads, GMK, Solstice, PhilHarmonic

(Vera Project) See Stranger Suggests, page 23, and My Philosophy, page 49.

Buttrock Suites... Live!

(Triple Door) Modern dance and '80s cock rock—two niche tastes that, as the creators of Buttrock Suites well know, taste effing great together. The key is the elemental power of irony: The swaggering cock rock takes the piss out of the modern dance, which becomes a swaggering cock-rock/modern-dance hybrid that takes the piss out of the wang-obsessed, woman-hating, arrested-adolescence RAWK! Tonight brings the one-night return of Buttrock Suites... Live!, in which the aforementioned and thrilling cock-rock/modern-dance combos are executed with a live band. What's lost in prerecorded Mutt Lange power-shimmer is made up for in tangible wallop. DAVID SCHMADER

SUNDAY 2/3

Four Star Alarm, To the Waves, Born Anchors

(High Dive) With Jesse Fox (Polecat, Leuko, and current drummer for Seaweed) at the helm, To the Waves blast a stunning mix of melody and rock. It's very dramatic, made even more so with echoing vocals, jarring guitars, bombastic drumming, and instrumentation that flows and crests like the ocean. (To the Waves, like the ocean, get it?) While a couple of their tracks flirt just a little bit with early Thursday (edging a little close to modern emo for my taste), their sins are forgivable as even more songs are reminiscent of the Casket Lottery's passionate post-something sound. They sound fine on record, but like co-openers Born Anchors, their sound really benefits from being played live and as loud as fucking possible. MEGAN SELING

MONDAY 2/4

Black Lips, Pierced Arrows, Unnatural Helpers

(Neumo's) What a freakout. Back in October, I turn on the TV and there're the frickin' Black Lips on the Conan O'Brien show—there's guitarist Cole Alexander doing backward somersaults in the middle of new jam "O Katrina," off 2007's Good Bad Not Evil, while guest Marky Mark Wahlberg looks on. Last year was a big one for the Lips—two full-length albums on Vice Records, big love from both Spin and Rolling Stone, endless touring, and a shit-ton of national exposure after the New York Times named them "The Hardest Working Band" at SXSW. I remember watching them play the Comet Tavern five years ago, and Cole dropped his pants and played guitar with his penis. He didn't necessarily play it well, but he played it. Now there he is doing somersaults on TV and not missing a chord. So larger than life! Well, large until eight-foot-tall Conan came onstage to thank them for playing and they all looked like midgets. Anyway, 2008 is gonna be a big year for the band, too, and true to the title of the band's blog: THEY FUN. They're forever and always garage-punk fun. KELLY O

Blood on the Wall, Loving Thunder, Katharine Hepburn's Voice

(Sunset) Familial Brooklyn trio Blood on the Wall (guitarist/vocalist Brad Shanks and bassist/vocalist Courtney Shanks are siblings) recall a golden decade of early indie rock that includes the likes of Dinosaur Jr., Sonic Youth, and Pixies, among others. Like those bands, Blood on the Wall obscure simple, sweet pop songwriting with blasts of guitar noise and divert easy riffs into cathartic, feedback-soaked thrash jams. "Hibernation," the three-chord, drug-surf rave-up that kicks off their latest album, Liferz, is immediately catchy. When the song reaches its bridge, one minute and 30 seconds in, Courtney's frozen-over vocals giving way to Brad's bark, it's undeniable. From there, the album tears through delicate drone pop ("Lightning Song"), sad-punk stomps ("Liferz"), and careening speed trials (the under-two-minute peel outs of "Go Go Go" and "Turn Around and Shut Up"). ERIC GRANDY

TUESDAY 2/5

Ships, Drug Rug, Corridor, Ghosts & Liars

(Comet) There's only one song. One lonely live recording called "Cut Along" is posted on Ships' MySpace page and it's this beautiful and psychedelic song that starts out sounding like twinkling stars and turns into something more. It's the song that would be playing in the club during Claire "The Princess" Standish and John "The Criminal" Bender's first date, if they ever went on a date outside of detention. It's mysterious and a little dark like him, but it's also pretty and subtly sparkling like her. The two would just stare at each other in the beginning, then the song would climax, the two would kiss, and the band would play louder and the camera would pan around them and the heart of everyone watching would swoon and they'd love the fact that the song playing isn't an obvious new-wave pop hit because that shit was done to death by 1985. It's hard to say what the rest of Ships' material sounds like, though. Because they only have one song posted. One lonely little song. MEGAN SELING

WEDNESDAY 2/6

Todd Snider

(Showbox at the Market) Trapped in that between-rock-and-a-country place that hobbled Lucinda Williams for so long, Todd Snider is the best American songwriter you've (probably) never heard of.* The Lucinda comparison is an imperfect one: Snider doesn't seem driven to strive for a career culmination/breakthrough à la Car Wheels on a Gravel Road (he makes great records, not masterworks), plus he's 10,000 times funnier than Lucinda Williams could ever be, even if she were wearing a rainbow wig and chasing a dog with a ham in its mouth. Along with his killer wit, Snider's signature is a miraculous lack of sentimentality. As a weathered, perceptive, fortysomething working artist, Snider's subjects often come from the hard-luck American underbelly. But Snider's heroes aren't beautiful losers—they're day-labor construction workers who pay by the week at roadside motels. DAVID SCHMADER

* This title previously belonged to Kimya Dawson, but then Juno happened.