Wednesday 7/6

Eighteen Individual Eyes, Bruisers, Debutante Year

(Comet) My older brother was a major influence on the music I heard in my formative years. For every R.E.M. Monster he tainted my still-developing brain with, there was a Zen Arcade CD or Pailhead tape. Just about three weeks ago, my brother's third kid was born (congrats, Colin and Maija!), and these days, he's not turning me on to a whole lot of music. So when he told me to investigate Eighteen Individual Eyes, I got right on it. Turns out his instincts are still on point. EIE trade in dour but hopeful slack guitar jams, and they usually make a profit. The stuff I heard on the internet could benefit from more vigilant production, but there's promise there. GRANT BRISSEY

Choklate

(City Hall, 1:30 pm) There are two things about the local soul singer Choklate that you might have missed and need to get your hands on. One: The collection of house remixes based on the tune "I'll Let It." It was released late last year and features work by Aki Bergen, Seiji, Buerens, and Los Vampiros Lesbos. It's house as it should always sound and feel—sensual, soulful, richly repetitive. I want her to do a disco record so bad. The other thing you must get your hands on is a track, "I'm Sorry," from her 2009 album To Whom It May Concern. Few singer–hiphop producer (in this case Vitamin D) collaborations sound as good, as full, and as masterful as this tune. She gets busy, yeah; she gets busy on the set. CHARLES MUDEDE

Jessica 6, Jefferey Jerusalem, Sports, Nark

(Nectar) I was a little disappointed that Sports weren't a Huey Lewis cover band, but relieved nonetheless when their shimmery synth-pop washed through a neon electro-prism too hip to be square. Noticeably akin to Cut Copy, Junior Boys, and New Order, Sports write songs primed for the cute, cool girl's heart; songs to feel and dance to. The night after I caught them performing at a Noise for the Needy benefit, I got in the car of a very beautiful female friend who was jamming to their self-titled full-length cassette. We listened to it as we navigated the bright Seattle streets, on our way to satisfy our hunger for hot, greasy fried chicken. Unlike the chicken, Sports didn't make me have to lick my fingers or clean out my ears afterward. They're an immaculately clean pop band, carefully pressed and ironed, with a napkin for an ascot, and a great soundtrack for your way home and into that room behind the closed door. TRAVIS RITTER

Thursday 7/7

God's Favorite Beefcake

(Cafe Racer) On the first (and sometimes second) Thursday of each month, Shmootzi the Clod and his friends have a little hoedown at Cafe Racer. Shmootzi, a member of the now-defunct Circus Contraption, has a sinister, lightly lewd grin and a beautifully odd voice that sounds rough and smooth at the same time: part Tom Waits and part Dean Martin. His friends play banjo, steel guitar, standup bass, accordion, harmonica, ukulele, musical saw, and other stuff—they sound like a scary jug band—while Shmootzi sings jauntily about apocalypse, desperation, and death: "Hello, my friends, I came by to say farewell. It's been nice to know you and I'll see you all in hell. When I get there, rest assured I'm gonna ring that bell. And let the devil know I have arrived." BRENDAN KILEY

Minirex, Erik Blood, Watch It Sparkle, 1-2-1-2

(Comet) Production wiz Erik Blood is Shabazz Palaces' secret weapon in the studio (shhh, keep it on the DL), but the former member of the Turn-Ons is probably better known for his stellar songwriting in the shoegaze-rock vein. Check out his 2009 album, The Way We Live, for exemplary proof of the guitarist/vocalist's keen realizations of dense, sensual textures and melodic grace. Let's hope he has some new tunes to unveil on our unworthy ears. Seattle quintet Minirex play beguiling pop with recessive punk genes—sort of an Emerald City Go-Go's, but inflected with the Northwest's requisite overcast moods. Locals 1-2-1-2 impress with a nonchalant funkiness that's at once ominous and fun. Don't let their letterless, perfunctory name fool you. They've got a special glow and a casual, accessible strangeness about them. DAVE SEGAL

Carrie Akre, Star Anna

(Crocodile) Carrie Akre is the big-voiced singer-songwriter who spent the '90s as the beloved frontwoman of Seattle bands Hammerbox and Goodness, before striking out in the new millennium as a solo artist who traffics in rich, high-drama acoustic pop. Star Anna is the big-voiced singer-songwriter who's distinguished herself—along with her Americana band the Laughing Dogs—as one of the Northwest's strongest new talents; her stage presence is stark, but when she opens her mouth, whole worlds tumble out. Expect an evening of strong if conventional songwriting lit up by the type of singing that must be heard live in person. DAVID SCHMADER

Ottmar Liebert & Luna Negra

(Triple Door) See Stranger Suggests.

Friday 7/8

Onry Ozzborn, Rob Castro, Khingz, Fictitious, Token Folk, Shorthand

(Chop Suey) See Stranger Suggests and My Philosophy.

Wild Pack of Canaries, Sailor Mouth, Just Like Vinyl, Diver Down

(Josephine) I played in a shitty garage band with the bassist of Wild Pack of Canaries in high school. We were sloppy, loud, and enamored of power chords and surf guitar licks. Then, he was our drummer, a multi-instrumentalist music geek who also fronted a ska band and made beats in his spare time. I'm happy to see he's found a home in this "Wild Pack" of Long Beach trop-pop jammers, who are musically miles beyond the dumbass riffs we cooked up in our acne-beset adolescence. WPoC's intricate arrangements shuffle layers of hyperactive beach guitar, glorious horn arrangements, hip-thrusting rhythms, and frequent tempo shifts. They employ a whole smorgasbord of FX, and their songs just keep going, man. JASON BAXTER

Ted Nugent

(Emerald Queen Casino) This is called the I Still Believe Tour. Oh, Uncle Ted—I wish I still believed! I saw you play in Detroit in the '90s—it was all flaming arrows, fireworks, 'Merican flags, and buffaloes (no joke: Terrible Ted rode a live buffalo onstage). But nowadays, as much as I still want to give a fellow former-Detroiter a break, it's impossible since lyrics like "I make the pussy purr with the stroke of my hand/They know they gettin' from me" gave way to 2011 songs like "I Love My BBQ"; and when Nuge-news includes things like him saying, "Obama's a piece of shit, and I told him to suck on my machine gun" (2008). And in 2009, he played "The Star-Spangled Banner" for a Tea Party hosted by Glenn Beck and Fox News. Dear Uncle T, you shoulda stuck to songs about pussy and deer hunting, 'cause your politics are really UN-believable. KELLY O

New Kids on the Block, Backstreet Boys, Matthew Morrison

(Tacoma Dome) NKOTBSB is a Transformers-like hybrid of New Kids on the Block (no longer kids) and Backstreet Boys (no longer boys). Once distinguished for their charismatic smiles, prepubescent falsettos, choreographed dance moves, and excessive merchandising (toys! Pencil toppers! Bedsheets!), all 10 teen idols have fallen victim to the 21st-century boy band bust. A few of the New Kids are still riding the coattails of NKOTB, having relaunched their musical careers as solo artists and actors. One went into real estate and turned gay, and one cut off his rat-tail and grew a goatee (bad hair choices abound). Backstreet Boys—as anyone with a tabloid fascination knows—have endured a string of personal setbacks and struggles. But that doesn't mean both groups of guys, now in their 30s and 40s, can't come out to sing the songs millions of young girls grew up loving. They just have to face the fact that they're fated to be boys as men. TRAVIS RITTER

NighTraiN, Pacific Pride, Thee Goochi Boiz, Pony Time

(Funhouse) I could just go on yammering—AGAIN—about how much I frickin' love-love-love local bands NighTraiN and Pony Time, but another super A+ reason to check out this show is Denver's Goochi Boiz. Their lo-fi self-described "bad-punk retardo-pop shit-folk" sounds like early Black Lips, all raw, shitty, and jangly fun. In a time when you can't throw a rock without hitting a band that wants to sound like '60s garage rock, finding one that gets the shitty-fun part right is a super score. Go, Goochis, go! KELLY O

Saturday 7/9

Trouble: Todd Terje, Tim Sweeney

(FRED Wildlife Refuge) See Data Breaker.

The Rosebuds, Other Lives

(Tractor) In Other Lives, we have some sideways-angled dark Americana fit for a chamber orchestra. Let's call it CHAMBERICANA. Look at what I did! Anyway, this band is rather aptly named—Tamer Animals is an appropriate soundtrack to wishing you were living someone else's life. I was going along, having a perfectly nice day, and then I put it on and blam! I was dragging my feet and none of my jokes worked. But since it's already winter again, this show is perfectly timed! "Dust Bowl III" is a jam. GRANT BRISSEY

Sunday 7/10

Wildildlife, Red Liquid, Wet Nightmare, Mountainss, So Pitted

(Neumos) MAJOR BUMMER NEWS ALERT: Wildildlife are pretty much done for. Guitarist Matt Rogers is heading back to California because he "doesn't like Seattle." THANKS A LOT, SEATTLE. Aside from the possibility of an occasional reunion show, this is your last chance to see the metal reinventors who've drawn comparisons to almost every hard band you've ever given a shit about. If you already know Wildildlife, you know you have to be there. If you don't, you should probably just stay home, because you'll just be bummed that you learned about them on their last night. This is all to say nothing of the heavy friends lined up to open. More on them next time they play. GRANT BRISSEY

Neko Case, Y La Bamba

(Paramount) Neko Case and her gorgeously clarion voice have come a long way since the days when she and Carolyn Mark sang for their supper at Hattie's Hat—the country-noir of her solo career, the clever Canadian indie rock of the New Pornographers, the backup vocals she sang on the latest Visqueen record. Y La Bamba are seven people from Portland who play sweet, dreamy music with Mexican and freak-folk inflections. (Singer and guitarist Luzelena Mendoza is the daughter of Mexican immigrants.) It's not hard to imagine Y La Bamba songs crackling out from a dusty old gramophone on a hot summer day while a young man wearing boots and an embroidered cowboy shirt sits in a front-porch rocking chair, quietly smoking a joint. BRENDAN KILEY See also preview.

Monday 7/11

Times is tough all over.

Tuesday 7/12

Dyme Def

(Nectar) See My Philosophy.

Jon Anderson

(Triple Door) Love it or hate it, Jon Anderson's voice is a singular instrument. The frontman for prog-rock deities Yes, Anderson projects an earnest pomposity and choirboy clarity that has polarized listeners something fierce. But there's no denying that the English singer has animated enough classic songs—yes, Yes haters, absolute stunners of melodic sophistication and delirious structural inventiveness; check "Heart of the Sunrise" if you doubt—to earn even your begrudging respect (not that Anderson cares). Besides his considerable contributions to Yes, Anderson recorded a classic prog solo LP in 1976 titled Olias of Sunhillow. An ambitious concept opus about aliens that flee their home after a catastrophe to find a haven on earth, Olias is full of gorgeous melodies and enchanting, mellow moods. Let's hope Anderson performs at least a handful of tracks from it tonight. DAVE SEGAL

Godsmack, Disturbed, Megadeth, In Flames, Trivium, and more

(White River Amphitheatre) Like any corporate-sponsored daylong touring music festival, the Rockstar Mayhem Festival is extremely hit-and-miss. Founded by Warped Tour head honcho Kevin Lyman, Mayhem did the unthinkable by taking down the untouchable beast known as Ozzfest. Just four years back, Lyman brought together some of the biggest names in metal (minus Ozzy)—Slipknot, Mastodon, and Dragonforce—to headline his big all-day energy-drink-sponsored idea. Since then, Mayhem has reigned supreme as the premier summer festival for both terribly overrated nu-metal main-stage acts and hard-working side-stage bands. This year, Mayhem threw in two of the worst perpetrators of catchy weightlifting boner jams: US Army theme-song writers Godsmack, and the always-laughable Disturbed. Don't worry, though: Lyman redeemed himself by filling the afternoon with a solid mix highlighted by groove-metal supergroup Kingdom of Sorrow, deathcore prom-kings Suicide Silence, and, oddly enough, Portland's pride and joy, Red Fang. If you're going to trek all the way to White River, though, make sure you stick around for a couple main-stage acts—namely, metalcore mainstays Machine Head and thrash legends Megadeth. KEVIN DIERS

This story has been updated since its original publication.