THURSDAY
APRIL 8
FREDDY COLE AND JEANIE BRYSON
(Jazz Alley, through April 11) If spring has got you randy, but in a mellow sort of way, then consider an evening of lovejazz, served up by two singers who are related to famous people. Freddy Cole is the brother of Nat "King" Cole, and he's undoubtedly tired of people talking about him being related to someone famous. It's worth talking about, though, especially because he's appearing with singer Jeanie Bryson, otherwise known as Dizzy Gillespie's daughter. I like Bryson mainly because she includes Cuban saxophonist Paquito D'Rivera on all her albums and because Dizzy is the bomb. Freddy Cole, however, gets my respect the hard wa with his own voice. His baritone sound is deep and clear, and he makes you believe what he sings. With both these singers, though, you'd better be in the mood for love, or else you might get ill. -- Nathan Thornburgh
GENE LOVES JEZEBEL
(Parker's) Go ahead -- laugh. The '80s spawned an entire army of bands who got by on a bad combination of hairspray, eye makeup and general poseurishness, but Gene Loves Jezebel -- in their finer moments, at least -- managed to transcend that. Peel back the layers of pretty-boy glam and there are some truly great songs (I still get a rush every time I hear "20 Killer Hurts"). -- Barbara Mitchell
THURSDAYS @ VITO'S
(927 Ninth Ave) Since I first tipped you off to this night a while back, Jon Lemmon's free weekly house excursion has evolved into something I never envisioned in Seattle: a deep house social. Every Thursday, a healthy group of enthusiasts gathers at Vito's for a bit of socializing and sit-down house music, provided by Lemmon, Carlos Mendoza, and a rotating selection of up-and-comers. If you're itching to get your groove on, there's a modest dance floor, but this night is mostly about gathering in a non-club setting to discover that house is much more than aural wallpaper for meat markets. -- Matthew Corwine
FRIDAY
APRIL 9
THE CRABS, MARS ACCELERATOR, THE SUB DEBS
(Breakroom) What will I miss when I leave the Northwest shortly? Not much: the hippie boys in Olympia, the sharpness of Seattle's skyline in the early evening, the corner vendor where I buy my Grande Double Latte every morning, a handful of friends, Pete Bagge and Eric Reynolds' cartoonsy and Portland's Crabs. Their sun-drenched harmonies and minimal love songs (very K Records) have gladdened my heart so often. Their new album, Sand and Sea, sees the duo fleshed out a little by the addition of Sarah Dougher on Farfisa organ: now the songs shimmer in the twilight, take on all manner of new, strange, comforting shapes, spiral uncontrollably away on surges of passion. And my heart breaks just a little bit more. Sigh. (Olympia's Sub Debs are well worth a look, too.) -- Everett True
KORN, ROB ZOMBIE
(Tacoma Dome) The reigning kings of stinky-hair metal and lactose-induced mucus growling duke it out at the Tacoma Dome to see who's the angriest, who's the loudest, and who's the potty-mouthiest. -- Kathleen Wilson
PETER PARKER, FASTER TIGER, THE MARTINIS, HAFA CAT
(Crocodile) Peter Parker's most notable achievement to date has been covering a "vintage" Harvey Danger song, and Faster Tiger remain one of Seattle's most under-appreciated pop bands. But the true disappointment on this bill is the Martinis. This L.A. band features the considerable talents of former Pixie guitar whiz Joey Santiago -- and has yet to score a deal after several years and a promising start on the Empire Records soundtrack. Here's your opportunity to see why. -- BM
SALT 'N' PEPA, PIECE OF SOL, BEYOND REALITY, DJ E-RACE
(Showbox) See Calendar Box
SATURDAY
APRIL 10
DJ TERRY MULLAN
(For location details: 800-974-2055) Terry Mullan is yet another highly regarded DJ that's well known to under-age ravers but completely unknown to the hipster elite. This Chicago native started messing around with records in the late 1980s when acid house was at its peak; since then he's developed a tight, energetic style that ties together acid, Detroit techno and progressive house with solid programming and accomplished hiphop trickery. The kids just love him. He's a common sight at Midwest raves, but his West Coast appearances are rare and low-profile. So if you're not above being seen at a rave once in a while, this one should be worth your money. -- MC
OUMOU SANGARE
(ACT Theater) She's barely 30, but is already the reigning queen of Wassoulou music (a style named after her home region in Southern Mali), and possesses a vocal presence and control that's envied and admired not only throughout Africa, but around the world. Her ability to follow long, flowing melodies in rapid phrasing is magical, especially among the many call and response vocals and ever-present driving rhythms. Sound funky? You bet it is. Oumou keeps it real! She's been unwilling to compromise her feminist, taboo-breaking lyrics and rootsy, synth-free sound during her rapid rise to stardom. You go girl! -- James Kirchmer
SUNDAY
APRIL 11
EAGLE EYE CHERRY, DAVID MEAD
(Showbox) Grunge lite, courtesy of some fellow from a country in mainland Europe I never want to visit. The acoustic guitar, the pencil-thin mustache, the politely mannered voice, the slicked-down hair -- all are studio-perfect, not a corner is left un-rounded nor a bottleneck guitar trick missed. His Desireless full-length debut is truly horrendous: strangely, most of it sounds like the first single from the new Blur album. Expect the Showbox to be populated tonight by Gap-wearing, one-child couples. Ugh! -- ET
HEDNINGARNA
(ACT Theater) Imagine the soundtrack to a medieval rave, as played by a bunch of Nordic heathens who've time-traveled into the future in order to procure samplers from their modern counterparts, and you'll begin to approximate the wild grooves of Hedningarna. Three crazed Swedish musicians mastered an arsenal of traditional instruments, invented some of their own, and dug into the ancient music of their homelands. They stumbled upon the same trance-inducing spirits that drive today's dance music (along with two entrancing female singers from Finland), and the resulting mix of old and new is nothing short of visionary. -- JK
MONDAY
APRIL 12
KENT, PAPA VEGAS
(Crocodile) Here's the deal. You're the Record Company Bigwig in charge of the music at a Beth Orton CD release party. So what do you play? Beth Orton, right? After all, you're being paid to promote the artist. WRONG! WRONG! After allowing the assembled local music industry sorts to hear her new album Central Reservation (which is a languid, laid-back delight, truth to tell -- kinda like prime Joni Mitchell given a '90s makeover) at extremely low volume for 15 minutes, the asshole in question decided to promote his new artist at Beth's expense (literally). So, for over a fucking hour, we were subjected to the turgid, limp-wristed, tuneless, clueless, sub-sub-Smashing Pumpkins prog rock of Papa Vegas -- at a volume which made normal conversation impossible. Have you ever heard the crap these A&R wankers sign when they're coked off their heads and desperate to justify their ridiculous salaries? You really don't want to. Next to Papa Vegas, even Live sounds good. Really. -- ET
STABBING WESTWARD, PLACEBO, FLICK
(RKCNDY) See Live Preview
WEDNESDAY
APRIL 14
BIG PICTURE JUSTICE, RUSTY WILLOUGHBY, EVANGELINE
(Crocodile) Over the past few months, Rusty Willoughby has undergone a major transformation. Once an almost painfully shy performer, the Rusty I saw last month at the Tractor Tavern was an entirely different creature: confident, warm, and wide open. Much of Rusty's new power comes from the addition of Anne-Marie Ruljancich's cello and vocal harmonies, but, as always, the bottom line is the songs -- almost heroically beautiful, and now performed with an ease and generosity that leaves audiences (and pointy-headed writers) near tears. -- David Schmader
OPEN MIKE
(OK Hotel) Tired of hearing pretty people play pretty music? Head to the OK Hotel, where it's all ugliness on open mike Wednesdays. The instruments are cheap, the mix is atrocious, and last week it tasted like the bartender poured a half-cup of salt in my vodka. Nevertheless, at 12:30 am on a weeknight, people still cared enough to drag themselves up onstage in the front lounge and sing everything from Billy Idol to Steve Miller, mixed in with a few sorry morsels of their own creation. That rocks. -- NT
CHRIS WHITLEY, JOSH ROUSE
(Tractor Tavern) See Calendar Box.