Wednesday 4/27
Pearson Sound, Zed Bias, Distal
(Baltic Room) See Data Breaker.
Show and Tell's First Anniversary: The Naturebot, Verse, Hjalti
(Living Room) See album review.
Mike Watt & the Missingmen, Stag
(Triple Door) Thirty years ago, Mike Watt was simultaneously creating and erasing the definition of American punk music with the dizzying, off-kilter musical melting pot of Minutemen. He continued to meld punk, jazz, and just about any other popular music form of the 20th century with fIREHOSE. And most recently, the dude was in the fuckin' Stooges. Watt's most recent solo album, Hyphenated-Man, revives the short, sharp blasts of Minutemen, cranking out 30 songs in 45 minutes in a self-proclaimed "punk opera" based on the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch. In a testament to his keen balance of intellectualism and populism, he'll be at the Triple Door decked out in flannel and belting out songs about a medieval Dutch painter in his heavy SoCal slang. The man is a national treasure. BRIAN COOK
Bare Wires, Christmas, Manic Attracts, the Apollos
(Funhouse) Not to be confused with the Moscow, Idaho, bar-blues band of the same name, this Bare Wires is yet another product of San Francisco and Oakland's fertile contemporary garage-rock scene. They demonstrate a fondness for T. Rex, etc., and their homage is well executed. Olympia's Christmas create a muddy din suggestive of psychedelics and surfboards. According to K Records, Christmas formed when "Emily Beanblossom (vocals, keys) and Pat Scott-Walsh (guitar) decided to go to Poland together without even knowing each other. But while there, they realized their mutual love for shitty sounding music." You should also know that Beanblossom has a beguiling set of pipes. GRANT BRISSEY
The Royal Bear, Daryl Hance, Falcon
(High Dive) Sadly, not the house band for Algona, Washington's the Royal Bear Pub & Eatery ("South King County's Favorite Place to Party"—Google it!), Seattle's Royal Bear instead play buoyant, poppy rock in the vein of the Futureheads, We Are Scientists, and New Order. After a spin of their debut full-length, I'll go ahead and throw Franz Ferdinand (what the hell happened to them?) in there, too. If this sounds like your bag, proceed accordingly. GRANT BRISSEY
Terror, Stick to Your Guns, Trapped Under Ice, Close Your Eyes, Your Demise
(Chop Suey) Given that Terror are a blistering hardcore band who have been delivering bass-heavy anthems for nearly 10 years, one could think their reputation would rest on their music. But no. Instead, Terror are known more for their "Vogelisms," the accidentally hilarious quips lead singer Scott Vogel shouts out between songs. Examples: "Maximum output! Activate the pit!" "I want to see exactly 17 stage dives during this song. No more, no less." "If you're a little dude, get a bunch of other little dudes and take a big motherfucker down." Go to www.vogelisms.com for more—and to waste a good 30 minutes of your day. MEGAN SELING
Thursday 4/28
Tomten, Spillway, Kithkin
(High Dive) When Kithkin played the EMP Sound Off! semifinals earlier this year, they changed their name onstage—they entered the contest as Chinook Jargon, but before their first song they announced they would now be known as Kithkin. Neither name is good, really. Kithkin sounds weird to say out loud and can be mistaken for too many other things—Kipkin, for instance. But that is not the point! The young band with a dumb name plays fantastically fun tribal pop with lots of drumming, hooping and hollering, and even a little face paint (which, of course, summons MGMT and Of Montreal comparisons). MEGAN SELING
Streetwalker, Fuck the Facts, Ken Mode, Great Falls
(Comet) Streetwalker play those nihilism-inducing brands of rock that social scientists like to call "grindcore" and "thrash." They're all about generating fury and chaos through heavy and swift guitar/bass/drum/throat abuse. Song titles like "Scrawlings of a Whore," "Invective," and "Granite Pusher" hint at the vibrantly wretched aura that Streetwalker summon. Intense catharsis and throbbing bone marrow await you. On a slightly less holocaustic tip, fellow Seattleites Great Falls bring the sort of extreme metallic clamor that instigates primal fight or shit-your-pants instincts, backed with screams from a man who seems to be falling off a skyscraper. Let's see if you can deal with these bands' ordeals. DAVE SEGAL
Friday 4/29
Panabrite, Garrincha & the Stolen Elk, Megabats, Summon Thrull
(Josephine) See Data Breaker.
Tune-Yards, Buke and Gass, Thousands
(Crocodile) Brooklyn duo Buke and Gass play the handmade instruments referenced in their name: baritone ukulele (buke) and a guitar-bass hybrid (gass). To this they add foot percussion, all in the service to scrappy rock songs informed by junkyard aesthetics and art-rock's tendency for compositional and vocal quirkiness. Their 2010 album, Riposte, abounds with vigorous, fetching songs. Another ukulele player, Tune-Yards (Merrill Garbus), is part of what I'm going to call New Quirky America (Dirty Projectors, Skeletons, Dengue Fever, etc.). These groups strive to avoid obvious chord progressions and vocal timbres and borrow liberally from myriad ethnic musics, yet they still write sweet, catchy melodies. Tune-Yards' new album, w h o k i l l, looks poised to achieve the popularity of Dirty Projectors' Bitte Orca. DAVE SEGAL See also preview.
Ice-T
(King Cat) A kid named Tracy Morrow packed his bags in New Jersey to move to Los Angeles after losing both his parents. He probably never dreamed he'd end up a hardcore gangbanger, or serve in the US Army. He never would have thought he'd win a Grammy or start a thrash-metal band or write "Cop Killer," which the White House would condemn. He wouldn't have believed that he'd appear in 40-plus films and/or ever play a detective on a TV show called Law & Order for nine seasons. Tracy "Ice-T" Morrow has lived through enough crazy shit to write a book. And he has. For his Seattle appearance, he'll be signing copies of his new memoir, Ice: A Memoir of Gangster Life and Redemption—from South Central to Hollywood, as well as performing his music. I hope he brings his "swimsuit model" wife, Coco. If you'd shown a young Tracy a picture of her ass, he'd have never believed that, either. KELLY O
ggnzla Movie Premiere: Spurm, Butts, Grave Babies
(Funhouse) Does somebody need $18,000 (raised from a wildly aggro Kickstarter + Facebook + e-mail campaign) to produce a good music video? FUCK NO. A self-made, guerrilla-video REBELLION is happening, and it's happening right now, right here in Seattle. And the ggnzla crew is leading this people-powered revolution. ggnzla Movie has 16 of the BEST mostly local, mostly garage-punk music videos from the past year. At the premiere, the videos will play interspersed with live sets by both sunny fun-loving duo Butts and doom-and-gloom death creeps Grave Babies. There's a lil' revolution for everybody. The $12 cover option gets you a copy of the DVD. KELLY O See also Stranger Suggests.
The Head and the Heart, Lemolo, the Devil Whale
(Showbox at the Market) Pitchfork's slagging of the Head and the Heart's self-titled debut (3.8—ouch!) triggered a semiheated exchange on Twitter between two former Stranger music editors. Said verbal sparring was more entertaining than the album under debate. Include this former Stranger music editor as someone who doesn't get why so many folks are flipping for the Head and the Heart's bland-on-bland Americana. Credit to them for selling 10,000 copies of their album on their own (spurring Sub Pop to reissue the disc with its usual choice packaging), but the music is an ardor-dampener; never has "hallelujah" been rendered more milquetoastily. That this modestly attractive folk rock has become one of the sounds of Seattle circa 2011 makes one think that we value restraint and strict adherence to conventional songwriting structures above all else. The Head and the Heart's soaring popularity reflects the triumphant Starbucksification of our city's music scene. DAVE SEGAL
J Mascis, the Black Heart Procession
(Tractor) If any eardrum-punishing guitarist has earned the right to chill the hell out and release an album of laid-back folk rock, it's Dinosaur Jr. leader J Mascis. Wielding an acoustic for most of his Sub Pop solo debut, Several Shades of Why, J goes against his trademark heavy-rock blowouts in favor of stripped-down, heartfelt balladeering. This kinder, gentler version of Mascis spotlights the wistful ache that's always nestled in his melodies; now it's just much easier to discern. Like Neil Young (easy but totally apt comparison), Mascis exudes a charming vulnerability—and a poignant whine—beneath his gnarly exterior. The malicious dude who's been giving you tinnitus is actually an old softy whose tunesmithing can wring genuine tears. All is forgiven. DAVE SEGAL
Saturday 4/30
L.A.B. Benefit Show: Prodigal Flame, Only Human, Getting Up Guilty, Halcyon Daze
(L.A.B. Seattle Drum School) See Underage.
Black Lodge Benefit Show: Megabats, Forrest Friends, Sorry, Thunder Grey Pilgrim
(Healthy Times Fun Club) See Underage.
Throw Me the Statue, BOAT, Boy Eats Drum Machine, Wonderful
(Comet) Tonight's show encompasses a big chunk of Seattle's wide spectrum of pop music: Throw Me the Statue are the preppy popsters, with choruses that are catchy enough to land them a TV commercial or two. BOAT are sillier but every bit as earwormy (ew), with song lyrics that go on about acting like King Kong and eating nachos (not together, though that could be fun). And both one-man-band Boy Eats Drum Machine and ex-U.S.E act Wonderful ditch the indie-pop guitar scene, instead opting to construct their tunes by way of a slew of electronic bleeps, bloops, samples, and other such noises. It's all different; it's all good. MEGAN SELING
Big World Breaks: Black Stax, Xperience, Hi-Life Soundsystem, Jerm
(Crocodile) Big World Breaks consist of local musicians who frequently work with local rappers and R&B singers. They have a brassy, jazzy, funky, percussive sound, and their last album, 4 Those Lost, features notable rappers like Yirim Seck, Khingz, and Gabriel Teodros. Tonight, BWB will collaborate with Black Stax, the current manifestation of a movement of local hiphop that began in the mid-1990s with Silent Lambs Project. Sadly, I have nothing nice to say about Big World Breaks. And this has nothing to do with their musicianship or dedication. What's my problem? I'm a hiphop purist. In my world, live instruments can only have a very limited or no role at all in the production of hiphop. The moment live music enters a mix, hiphop's spell is broken. It is not hiphop anymore. I do not know what it is, but I rarely like it. Samplers, turntables, microphones—this is the hiphop equipment I know and love. CHARLES MUDEDE See also My Philosophy.
Sunday 5/1
Pikachu-Makoto, Mugu Guymen, Mountainss, Are you a cat?
(Josephine) See Underage.
The Pipettes
(Crocodile) The Pipettes are still a quintessential girl group, but instead of making great singles with personality to spare, nowadays their chief adherence to tradition seems to be rotating membership; the current two-piece incarnation includes none of the three original singers and only one featured on We Are the Pipettes. Far more troubling was the decision to swap out spirited 1960s pastiches for rudimentary dance pop on last year's Earth vs. the Pipettes. Displaying neither the steely professionalism of Girls Aloud nor the WTF joie de vivre of latter day Bananarama, the Pipettes circa 2011 mostly evoke the interchangeable chart acts that soundtrack summer vacations in lands where Eurovision placement remains a matter of national pride—and are promptly forgotten upon returning home. KURT B. REIGHLEY
Monday 5/2
Fleet Foxes
(Moore) See preview.
Junip, Acrylics
(Neumos) Junip are a Swedish trio invariably known as Jose González's prestardom group, but they deserve respect in their own right. Their 2010 album, Fields, induces shivers with their famous frontman's hushed, dulcet vocals tiptoeing over touching, pastoral rock and kraut-rocky, cruise-control jams. Bonus: Drummer Elias Araya is a veritable Scandinavian Jaki Liebezeit. Recognize. NYC duo Acrylics (Molly Shea and Jason Klauber; their rhythm section up and joined MGMT a while ago) recently released Lives and Treasure, a collection of understated, elegantly honed pop songs that resolves male/female twosomes' innate yin-yang tension with grace and verve. Easy sighs all around. DAVE SEGAL
Tuesday 5/3
Fleet Foxes
(Moore) See preview.
Thee Sgt. Major III, the Femurs, Cali Giraffes
(Neumos) It's kind of shocking to note that former Fastback Kim Warnick has never written her own lyrics—until now. Warnick's new project, recently renamed Cali Giraffes (from the Calligraphers), is everything you'd expect—punchy songs, pop-punk immediacy, Warnick's effortlessly cool/vulnerable vocals, and songs that you won't be able to shake out of your head. She and partner-in-crime Mikey Davis have crafted something that's brilliant and timeless, and pairing their feisty energy with the equally spunky punk pop of former Fastbacks cohort Kurt Bloch's Thee Sgt. Major III is a genius idea. If you're old enough to drink, attendance at this show is pretty much mandatory. These folks not only helped make Seattle awesome, they're continuing to keep it that way. BARBARA MITCHELL
Eddie & the Hot Rods, Prima Donna, the First Times, Badlands
(Comet) Veteran UK pub rockers Eddie & the Hot Rods haven't had Eddie, the inanimate-dummy member that once flanked the stage with the band, since 1977, which was still early in their career, before rotating members went on to play in the Damned and represent other UK punk luminaries. But the moniker stuck, and the Rods' power-popping hits held strong on UK charts through the early 1980s, before the group disbanded. There have been repeated UK reunions over the past couple of decades, some with the premier late-1970s lineup that toured the States with Talking Heads, to the band's current incarnation with original vocalist Barrie Masters. It's telling that people who were born after punk's early-'80s blossom can finally see many of the iconic bands that they only knew from records and mixtapes. Thankfully, the Rods are still playing in the types of dive bars where shit really went down back in the day. TRAVIS RITTER
