THURSDAY 3/13

New Faces, DJ Colby B, DJ Glitterpants

(Chop Suey) See Underage, page 59.

Neema, Cool Nutz, Cancer Rising, Certified, Mr. D.O.G.

(Nectar) Neema of Unexpected Arrival is a local player. He works the 206 hustle hard. After a ball game at the KeyArena, you can find him not in the club but outside the stadium selling his rap music (which is more on the pop end of the rap spectrum), handing out fliers, and promoting shows. In fact, in the last conversation I had with Neema, he expressed great concern about the possible departure of the Sonics. Not only are the games good for advertising his events, he also believes that a city without a professional basketball team could not be a hiphop city. B-boys and b-ball must not be separated. To reuse the words of Kurtis Blow: "Basketball is my favorite sport/I love the way they dribble up and down the court." Word. CHARLES MUDEDE

FRIDAY 3/14

Boys Noize, Incite!, Recess, Introcut, Brian S, Saigon, Squid Leader

(Chop Suey) See Stranger Suggests, page 21.

Kasey Anderson, the Maldives, Massy Ferguson

(High Dive) There are plenty of folks cranking out standard-issue "Americana" these days, but few do it with the panache and power of Kasey Anderson. The fresh-faced Portland troubadour sounds like he's already lived several lives on latest album The Reckoning. His gravelly voice and insightful songwriting lift his down-and-out characters out of the ordinary and into the realm of legend. Broken hearts and empty bottles might not be the freshest source of inspiration, but they suit Anderson to a tee. One listen and you already feel like you've found your new favorite dive bar—well worn, stained by spilled drinks and fallen tears, plenty of Townes Van Zandt on the jukebox. BARBARA MITCHELL

Les Claypool

(Showbox Sodo) Les Claypool's fingers move so inhumanly fast when he plays his bass that he suffers from a rare form of carpal tunnel syndrome that he calls Magnum Cum Funnel Cake. He carries a lock with him and twists the combination constantly when he's not playing to keep his tendons warm. As a result, Claypool knows locks. He can pick them. Bandmate and sax lord Skerik says, "Les isn't a thief or anything, he just happens to be able to pick locks. Like some people can juggle." Also in the Claypool band are Critters Buggin's Mike Dillon, Paulo Baldi from Cake, and Eric McFadden. Skerik says, "We're playing some older Primus songs that haven't been played in 10 years. We're also playing Morphine's 'Honey White.'" TRENT MOORMAN

SATURDAY 3/15

SunTzu Sound, Benji B, Flying Lotus

(Chop Suey) See Bug in the Bassbin, page 60.

Tragedy

(CHAC Lounge) It's hard to maintain an enthusiasm for hardcore in a day and age when the loudest proponents of the genre don't seem to have any idea of the ideologies originally behind the music. I'm certainly not buying Gallows's claim to the Black Flag throne. Sorry boys, but you don't get to carry the DIY hardcore banner when your latest "indie" record is financed by a major label and you're playing gigs with Papa Roach and Bullet for My Valentine. At least we still have Tragedy. They put out their own records, reject MySpace, and play nontraditional spaces for a low door price. And politics aside, their take on D-beat hardcore slays harder than any of the Pro Tooled, flat-ironed "punk" bands making the Warped Tour rounds. BRIAN COOK

The Presidents of The United States of America, Pleaseeasaur, U.S.E

(Paramount) The title of the Presidents of the United States of America's new album, These Are the Good Times People, goes both ways. When you say it aloud, it seems to mean: Hey everyone, these are good times. (The cover of this New York Times right here begs to differ.) But study it and you realize there is no comma before the last word, no comma of direct address, which allows for a different meaning: These people have a talent for having fun. The album itself is pure PUSA, pure happiness—weird lyrics, not too many chords, goofy drums. But openers U.S.E could give the Presidents a run for their money in the Good Times People department. Whenever I see them perform, I feel like someone's slipped ecstasy into my drink. CHRISTOPHER FRIZZELLE See also preview, page 37.

SUNDAY 3/16

Say Anything, Biffy Clyro, Manchester Orchestra Weatherbox

(Neumo's) Say Anything's lead singer, Max Bemis, is crazy. He's sung about it in songs, he's talked in interviews about his stay in a mental hospital, and now he's working with the Half of Us campaign and the Jed Foundation, which focus on preventing suicide and reducing emotional distress in college students. Billy Corgan recently joined Bemis, making public his struggle with depression and suicidal thoughts. The cause is a good one—fighting the stigmas associated with mental illness while supporting those who struggle with it. The music? Well, that's not so good. But props for the charity work, boys. MEGAN SELING

MONDAY 3/17

Travis Morrison Hellfighters, Josh Ottum

(Sunset) See Stranger Suggests, page 21.

TUESDAY 3/18

Beach House, Papercuts, Throw Me the Statue

(Chop Suey) See Album Reviews, page 43.

Buckethead, That 1 Guy

(Neumo's) Tonight unites two of the most irritating solo acts in the history of, well, everything—including theater, which is saying something. But let's accentuate the positive, shall we? Exhibit A: Buckethead may be a thrash-metal guitarist who wears a KFC bucket on his head, makes records with Viggo Mortensen, and, when he grants interviews, answers all questions via a hand puppet named Herbie. HOWEVER! Buckethead once auditioned to be the guitarist for the Red Hot Chili Peppers without having heard any of their songs, which is marvelous. Exhibit B: That 1 Guy is a cheap Tom Waits knockoff who thinks improper use of numerals is cute and named one of his (awful, awful) albums The Moon Is Disgusting. HOWEVER! Um... Actually, I can't think of anything positive to say about That 1 Guy. BRENDAN KILEY

WEDNESDAY 3/19

This Is a Process of a Still Life, Danger Bees, Charts & Maps, Brier Rose

(Comet) Their name is pretentious, but This Is a Process of a Still Life's carefully constructed instrumentals overwhelm in the best way possible. The beautiful "Land Has Never Seemed Further" is a fluidly churning mix of delicate keyboards, soaring guitars, and light-as-air drumming. "Constantly Under Surveillance" is mellower, like drifting in the middle of the ocean during the eerie moments of an oncoming storm. It's reminiscent of Mono—layers slowly coming together, building to an explosion, but This Is a Process of a Still Life's songs don't come to quite as bombastic conclusions. Which doesn't mean they're not capable of knocking you off your feet. MEGAN SELING

Saul Williams, Dragons of Zynth

(Neumo's) Now that slam poetry is dead, what does the future hold for Saul Williams, the most famous and accomplished slam poet in the history of everything? The leading justification for slam poetry was its vitality—its life on the streets, in popular music, and in da clubs. Slam poetry above all was a living poetry. Academic poetry might have been technically better and harder to master, but it was dead as a doornail. The academic poet was much like the sad soul in Baudelaire's poem "The Cracked Bell"—on the "edge of a lake of blood, under a great pile of the dead, and who dies, without moving, after tremendous efforts." The slam poet is now in that terrible situation. What is he/she going to do? Make tremendous efforts? Continue as academic poetry has had to continue in the afterlife? But without life what is the use of slam poetry? To revive poetry, Saul Williams married poetry to rap. The trick worked wonders. But rap, to use the words of the Green Eyed Bandit, is now "gone with the wind," and poetry slams are nothing more than graveyards of yesterday's words and gestures. If Saul Williams doesn't bring slam poetry to an end soon, he will become a vampire. CHARLES MUDEDE

School of Language, Hanne Hukkelberg, Half Acre Day

(Nectar) Last year, British band and blog darlings Field Music announced that they were going to cease being a band, but that they were going to continue to create music, explaining, "Field Music aren't going to be over because we've already got a bank account under the name, so we'll just continue as a company. It's time to go and do some real work." School of Language's debut, Sea from Shore, is the first product of that real work, a more or less solo album (labeled a "Field Music Production") from that band's David Brewis. The album features guest appearances from two-fourths of fellow Sunderlanders (Sunderlandians?) the Futureheads, it's bookended by a four-part "Rockist" song cycle (with part three parenthetically titled "Aposiopesis"), and, not surprisingly, it sounds quite a bit like Field Music, with Brewis's delicate vocals bolstered by drums, electric guitars, and his guests. ERIC GRANDY