Wednesday 3/30

Mount Kimbie, Shigeto, Nordic Soul

(Baltic Room)

See Data Breaker.

Glitterbang, Reporter, Ryat

(Chop Suey) See Sound Check.

Kasey Anderson, Hoots & Hellmouth, Ha Ha Tonka

(Tractor) If you don't know Kasey Anderson, odds are extraordinarily good that you're familiar with his bandmates in the Honkies—Long Winters' bassist Eric Corson, Presidents' guitarist/all-around bad-ass Andrew McKeag, and drummer extraordinaire Mike Musburger (ex–Posies/Fastbacks/Supersuckers). And if you're familiar with that lot, you know they don't go out and supergroup it up behind a relative unknown just because they're bored. Anderson is a gravelly voiced, long-term, and curiously overlooked PNW singer-songwriter whose latest album (recorded with the Honkies) might just be his best—and that's saying something given his previous stellar, spine-tingling offerings Nowhere Nights and The Reckoning. Raw, rockin', and real, it'll make you wanna order a double whiskey, get into trouble, and feel genuinely, truly alive—for better or for worse. BARBARA MITCHELL

Davila 666, the Apollos

(Funhouse) Davila 666 played about eight million really fun shows at SXSW. How they still have enough energy to play another show at Funhouse tonight is the Eighth Wonder of the World, but it's also your gift. Go see this absolutely energizing garage-rock band from Puerto Rico before they score another car commercial and become passé. GRANT BRISSEY

Jake Shimabukuro

(Jazz Alley) Yet another musician who bounded up Mt. Fame with a heavy assist from YouTube, Jake Shimabukuro can do things with a four-string ukulele that puts even the most accomplished guitarists to shame. If you haven't seen this young Hawaiian's work online, hop to it—most people start with his four-string stunt versions of "My Guitar Gently Weeps" or "Bohemian Rhapsody" and explore from there. (His jazz work and original compositions are his best stuff.) Shimabukuro may go down in history as the man who taught the world that the ukulele can be more than just a toy or gimmick—that it can be a very real and very complicated instrument if you know how to use it. BRENDAN KILEY

Talib Kweli, Grynch

(Showbox at the Market) Talib Kweli's designation as a "conscious rapper" is now so knee-jerk he's devoting his next album title to mocking it. (Prisoner of Conscious is due later this year.) For now, Kweli's touring behind his celebrated early 2011 release, Gutter Rainbows, one more in a line of brainy, astute, and melodically welcoming records, which he'll bring to the stage with his butt-kicking live skills. Opening the show: esteemed Seattle rapper Grynch. DAVID SCHMADER

MC Hammer vs. Vanilla Ice: DJ Moynilectric, BGeezy

(Nectar) This DJ set will be dedicated to the tunes of America's Clintonian moment, the '90s. MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice exploded during the early parts of that decade. Hammer became known for his dancing and parachute pants; Ice for just being white. By the end of the '90s, both rappers were history. Hammer famously became broke and turned to God, and Ice did a little soft porn for Madonna. (Not too long ago, I saw middle-aged Ice on TV boasting about his home construction company—indeed, it's not the best time to be building new houses.) Altogether, the '90s was a better musical decade than the '00s, but not as good as the '80s. The '80s were also better than the '70s. CHARLES MUDEDE

Thursday 3/31

Rocky Votolato, Laura Gibson, Lizzie Huffman, Nazca Lines

(Neumos) Rocky Votolato has been playing his solo music since 1999—over the years, he's played hundreds of shows in Seattle and around the Northwest. You've probably seen him before. But you should come see him again tonight, because whether he's playing the earlier, emotionally charged ballads like "Suicide Medicine" or the more alt-country-flavored rock songs from his latest release,

True Devotion, Votolato never fails to deliver a powerful set that'll make you dance and sing along as much as it will make you get a little misty-eyed (if he plays "Montana," I'm a goner). Singer-songwriters Laura Gibson and Lizzie Huffman open, along with post-rock outfit Nazca Lines. MEGAN SELING

Say Hi, Yellow Ostrich, Blair

(Crocodile) Say Hi are finally coming home! Eric Elbogen and his rotating cast of touring musicians (the current lineup includes Luke Heath and Trever Hadley) are returning to Seattle after over a month on the road in support of the (fantastically dark) new album, Um, Uh Oh. They've gone up to Eastern Canada, down to SXSW—they've played something like 37 shows in 42 days. But nothing will compare to returning to the Northwest and playing to an enthusiastic hometown crowd, right Seattle? RIGHT, SEATTLE? MEGAN SELING

Friday 4/1

Beats Antique, Eskmo, the Tailor

(Showbox at the Market)

See Data Breaker, and Underage.

Boom Blap!: Sugarpill, Northstar, Chris Null

(Contour) See Data Breaker.

Metal Chocolates, Truckasauras, Viper Creek Club, DJ Darwin, dj100proof

(Neumos) See Stranger Suggests, and My Philosophy.

Gun Outfit, American Vacuum, Naomi Punk

(Cairo) See Underage.

Metalliance Tour: Helmet, Saint Vitus, Crowbar, Kylesa, Red Fang, Howl, Atlas Moth

(El Corazón) Damn, this is one mammoth of a show. After a six-year hiatus, NOLA groove-meisters Crowbar have returned to reclaim their crown as the Heavyweight Champions of Sludge. Going head-to-head with the newly sober Kirk Windstein and company are a handful of crushing metal acts—some old, some new. Still active after 26 years, influential doom quartet Saint Vitus will surely bring eardrums to submission—that is, if there's any hearing left after the tag-team assault of Kylesa, Red Fang, Howl, and Atlas Moth have their way with 'em. But wait, there's more. Seriously. Remember in the '90s when Helmet ruled? Turns out they do now, too, as the New York alt-metal band will be performing its breakthrough record from 1992, Meantime, in its entirety. Get ready for a marathon of distortion-driven noise. KEVIN DIERS

Basemint, the Fucking Eagles, Night Beats

(Funhouse) Auburn's Basemint adeptly deploy snarling riffs and drawled-out vocals, all sounding like they're coming out of a garage or basement you'd rather be inside of. Everyone here clearly knows what they're doing, as the band's record No Retro proves—think early Stones and the like. The frontdude, whose name I couldn't find on the internet, sports a likable, Jaggeresque vibe. Dear Basemint: I will take as much of this as you can give. If you're inclined to feel the same way, this lineup will give in spades. GRANT BRISSEY

Peelander-Z, Anamanaguchi, the Downstrokes, Smokejumper, Pin Pon Dash

(Studio Seven) If you go to www.dawnmetropolis .com, you will find a cornucopia of .gif-enhanced songs by New York City quartet Anamanaguchi. The animation is rendered in that cute, Lego-like blockiness reminiscent of ancient video games; the music is similarly redolent of 1980s synth pop, but injected with the absurdly euphoric energy of a kid who's consumed a week's worth of sugar in one day. Imagine the excessive pomp of Queen or Emerson, Lake & Palmer transferred to the rinky-dink, plinkety-plonk of a hacked Nintendo Entertainment System circa 1985 (their admitted MO), then bolstered by a traditional punk-rock band setup, and you get an idea of the outrageous blipkrieg Anamanaguchi deliver. "Japanese Action Comic Punk Band" Peelander-Z are the perfect complement to Anamanaguchi. Gimmicky spasms of fun await tonight. DAVE SEGAL

Saturday 4/2

Eternal Tapestry, Kinski, Midday Veil, Prince Rama, Brother Raven, Geist & the Sacred Ensemble

(Lo-Fi) The Portable Shrines collective celebrates the release of the fab, artfully packaged double-LP comp

Portable Shrines Magic Sound Theatre Vol. 1 tonight with a wonderfully overloaded bill featuring six artists who contributed to it. We've written a bunch about the locals—Kinski, Midday Veil, Geist & the Sacred Ensemble, and Brother Raven (although synth master Jamie Potter now lives in Portland): They cover a broad range of styles conducive to altered mental states, and you should explore all of 'em. Brooklyn's Prince Rama—powered by Taraka and Nimai Larson's vocals and robust tom-tom pounding—traffic in ceremonial, reverb-saturated hymns that make you feel like you're opiated in a garishly decorated Buddhist temple. Portland's Eternal Tapestry follow in the tradition of the 1970s' most reliable sonic cosmonauts, methodically wending their way skyward and taking you to the precipice of revelations you can't handle. This is destined to be the psychedelic-themed event of the spring—at least. DAVE SEGAL

KEXP Audioasis: Whalebones, Thee Midnight Creep, Joseph Giant

(Sunset) Praise be: Seattle trio Whalebones have a self-titled LP in the can, ready for your greedy ears. This is great news for folks who dig rangy, straight-ahead rock with dirt under its fingernails. In the Northwest, we're saturated with solid rock songs rooted in tradition and the zenith of the Rolling Stones' back catalog, but Whalebones' Justin Deary and company execute them with the kind of nonchalant swagger and hazel-eyed soul that can't be taught. Recorded at Barn Door Studios (basically, a cabin basement in the woods) with Bradford Button, Whalebones is the kind of instantly familiar collection of dustily wistful, suede-jacketed rock tunes that makes the Secretly Canadian/Jagjaguwar A&R department drool, so it seems unlikely this group will remain unsigned for much longer. DAVE SEGAL

Sunday 4/3

Craft Spells, the Soft Moon, Witch Gardens

(Vera)

See Underage.

Ruthann Friedman, Fort King

(Comet, early) Friedman wrote the 1967 smash "Windy" for the Association, which ranks as one of the most beguiling, instantly catchy songs of the '60s. But she moved in stranger circles in LA during those heady times, cutting a single with Van Dyke Parks, hanging out with Frank Zappa, Country Joe, and Janis Joplin, and rejecting an offer to join Jefferson Airplane. Her 1969 LP, Constant Companion (reissued by Water in 2006), reveals Friedman as a composer of exquisitely lovely, spare folk-pop and a singer with a beautifully burnished tone somewhere between Dorothy Moskowitz and Astrud Gilberto. This is the live Seattle debut of Friedman, and if you care at all about gorgeous, folk-jazz-inflected songcraft, you should check out one of the best who never really received her due (though she's surely dining well on those "Windy" royalties). DAVE SEGAL

My Chemical Romance, Neon Trees, the Architects

(Showbox Sodo) My Chemical Romance's new record,

Danger Days: The True Lives of Fabulous Killjoys (no, seriously, that's the title), may be more experimental than anything the band has done before (it's a rock-and-roll concept record about... a band in space? It's hard to say; there's a radio DJ who keeps coming on between songs talking nonsense), but in true MCR style, it's still overwrought with lyrics written with the specific intent to be used as Facebook status updates for overly emotional 14-year-olds wanting to vaguely whine about whatever adversity they seem to be facing that week. Example: "Raise your voice every single time they try and shut your mouth/Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls/Every time that you lose it/Sing it for the world." But at least they stopped trying to sound like Queen, right? MEGAN SELING

Monday 4/4

Ruthann Friedman

(Rendezvous)

See Sunday.

Seapony, Vanaprasta

(High Dive) Newly signed to Sub Pop subsidiary Hardly Art Records, Seattle trio Seapony are slated to release Go with Me on May 31. The album bears striking similarities to the output of Slumberland's roster of acts that worship the gentler side of the cult compilation artifact C86. Seapony vocalist Jen Weidl wispily emits cool-headed, romance-centric words wreathed in faint reverb while rudimentary drumbeats, Ian Brewer's stolid bass lines, and Danny Rowland's placid guitar chimes back her up. The 12 songs here make beelines to your memory banks as they caress you with comforting, mildly sugary melodies. It's not a very ambitious approach, but it is pleasant. These breathy, gauzy tunes should charm their way into numerous bedrooms and tremulous, youthful hearts. DAVE SEGAL

The Dodos, Reading Rainbow

(Neumos) The Dodos' guitar-playing singer Meric Long can pick like a motherfucker. He combs quickened, exacting, nimble, surgeonlike finger movements across the frets of his Fender Jazzmaster. He must have some Blue Ridge Mountain blood in him. But he only picks like this occasionally. Usually, he's rhythmically strumming an alternately tuned chord. Long can also sing like a sage deity of angelic golden sound. Meaning, he sings real pretty. He's part Jeff Buckley, part down-home, and part anime songstress. Dodos drummer Logan Kroeber plays three floor toms, a snare drum, and two crash cymbals—no kick pedal. On his foot is a tambourine, which is stomped evenly. His playing is patterned, two-dimensional, open, and perfectly fitting for Long's novelesque dreamscapes. The Dodos have a new LP titled No Color out on Frenchkiss Records. None other than Neko Case contributes backing vocals. TRENT MOORMAN

Tuesday 4/5

Broken Figures, Bizzart, A.Madman, Dead Noise

(Lo-Fi)

See Data Breaker.

Danielson, Karl Blau, Shannon Stephens

(Vera) Staunch Christian Daniel Smith's weirdo-folk/pop outfit Danielson took five years off since the critical mind-orgasm that was Ships. The internet doesn't seem to be having any orgasms over Best of Gloucester County, but what the fuck does the internet know (answer: more than I do)? Anyway, County sounds like a pretty good record to throw into the car deck after you just got done smoking a jay in the desert with that girl you just met but took a road trip with 'cause you hit it off right away. Would Mr. Smith approve? GRANT BRISSEY

Paul Kikuchi

(Great Hall at Union Station) The plan calls for this Seattle-based percussionist, composer, instructor, and instrument builder to do solo and ensemble pieces for vibes and invented instruments in Union Station's cavernous environs. (Trumpeter Stuart Dempster and experimental sound artist Susie Kozawa will join Kikuchi for the latter endeavors.) Having worked with jazz legends like Milford Graves and Wally Shoup and studied under Wadada Leo Smith, Kikuchi merits serious attention. This unconventional venue should lend itself well to a resonant and strange listening experience. DAVE SEGAL