"The Wilderness Downtown," an interactive video for "We Used to Wait"
Arcade Fire, Calexico
Arcade Fire have been making arena-sized art rock since 2004's Funeral, which the band supported with an ecstasy-imparting show at the Paramount Theatre. Six years later, they're touring in support of their Billboard-chart-topping new glory The Suburbs, and playing in actual arenas: Sometimes history proceeds as it should. Tonight's KeyArena gig should be a theatrical ravishment of Springsteenian grandeur, drama-club enthusiasm, and the closest thing to a revival meeting most liberal secular humanists will ever get. Calexico open. (KeyArena, 305 Harrison St, Seattle Center, www.ticketmaster.com, 7:30 pm, $40) DAVID SCHMADER
Futureheads: "Struck Dumb"
(Crocodile) The Futureheads arrived as part of a wave of smart, stylish rock coming out of the UK in the mid-'00s (see also: Franz Ferdinand, Maxïmo Park), but their self-titled 2004 debut was even then an unexpected blast: edged-up, agitated punk rock with... Mackem-accented barbershop harmonies? It worked, though. The songs were bopping and sharp, and the best of them—"Decent Days and Nights," "Meantime," "Stupid and Shallow"—hit with a rush that hasn't worn off with time. Like their contemporaries, they've released a couple of less energetic, more leaden albums since (although News and Tributes at least spun off a fun, typically twitchy Switch remix of "Worry About It Later"), but their new album, The Chaos, is an encouraging return to form. The verses swerve, the choruses surge, the accents still seal it. Just try not to think about the meantime. ERIC GRANDY
Audiwasska Travelers, Git Some, Countdown to Armageddon, Smooth Sailing
(Funhouse) Git Some are a mess—a glorious, sweaty, drunken, howling mess. Theirs is the kind of orchestrated cacophony that would deteriorate into a dissonant, squelching murk in lesser hands. These Denver punks excel at recalling the nasty distorted bass, foul guitar riffs, and petulant tirades of the '90s DIY hardcore greats—a little Born Against here, a little Monorchid there. You know, all the good shit that got ruined in the last decade by cocaine, professionalism, or ironic pop-cultural pillaging. The members of Git Some powered through the Bush Jr. years and came out with tighter chops, worsened tempers, and a greater appetite for destruction. You have to be a little dead inside—or just kind of an asshole—not to get swept up in their frenzied squall. BRIAN COOK
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