ORLANDO "MARACA" VALLE
(Jazz Alley) Yes, the Latin explosion is starting to seep into middle America. That's why my lazy-eyed nephew and his kindergarten class spent last Tuesday making maracas by taping two Dixie cups together and filling them with half a cup of uncooked rice. Well, Timmy, that sucks. If you were a real boy, you'd make your percussion instruments like they used to in the Caribbean. First, you take a donkey jawbone, with the teeth still attached. Then you boil the flesh off and let the bones bleach for a week in the sun. Then whittle down a small mammalian femur and rake it lightly across the teeth in a 2-3 clave rhythm. Now you have a working guiro, and you're a real badass, much like the original "Maraca," Orlando Valle, a veteran Cuban bandleader who's got more licks and chops than a thousand donkey jawbones. NATHAN THORNBURGH
MARC OLSEN, GREAT LAKES NORTHWEST
(Crocodile) The interesting thing about Seattle's local music scene is the sheer volume of bands created by the constant reconfiguration of players from previously existing outfits. Great Lakes Northwest features two members of the Nevada Bachelors (Rob and Ben) and Showbox booker Sean Haskins, returning to his first calling as a drummer. BARBARA MITCHELL
PROJECT W & TOSHI MAKIHARA, FRED CHANDLER'S ARC, TARD QUARTET
(Rainbow) Project W will be a familiar name to those who saw the first night of Sonic Youth two years ago at the Moore. Saxophonist and improviser extraordinaire Wally Shoup tries everything his embouchure can manage, pushing his instrument to the limit as cellist Brent Arnold swoops in from the dark residential neighborhood of nightmares. They will be joined tonight with percussionist/performance artist Toshi Makihara from Philadelphia, who employs silence and found objects in a Zen fashion that just may bring you to satori. KREG HASEGAWA
DAMIEN JURADO
(Gordon Biersch) We've tried almost everything at this point: greed ("It's FREE!"); snobbery ("You're better than the post-frat crowd that hangs out there, and only someone like you could possibly appreciate music this amazing"); sloth ("Hey--parking's easy, and you can sit at a table and they'll bring you your drinks!"); and even the obvious ("The music is really, really good. And did we mention that it's FREE?"). And still you resist. How about guilt? If you don't go to Gordon Biersch to see Damien Jurado, the poor guy will be forced to sing his beautiful songs for louts who would rather smoke cigars and shout at bigscreen televisions. BARBARA MITCHELL
MARK LANEGAN, 764-HERO, CARISSA'S WIERD
(Showbox) The last time Mark Lanegan played the Showbox, almost two years ago, I was on the last great bender of my 14 years as a practicing alcoholic. The scotch buzz was a dark, painful, beautiful filter for Lanegan's honey-cured baritone. I met a sweet couple from West Seattle, and nearly wept over the man's first-hand account of the Gulf War. We smoked a joint on the corner of First and Pike in front of God and everybody. Lanegan appears tonight backed by Ben Shepherd (Soundgarden), Mike Johnson (Dinosaur Jr.), and Bill Rieflin (Ministry). GRANT COGSWELL
CHAKA KHAN, CHIC FEATURING NILE RODGERS
(Pier 62/63) "Chaka Khan, everybody, everybody Chaka Khan. Uh!" We haven't really heard from her in years, except that little cameo in Whitney Houston's "I'm Every Woman" video, but The Globe says she's just split from her husband and taken up with a hot, booty-licious 27-year-old, so I'm thinking the diva still has it--in more ways than one. LEAH GREENBLATT
ROGER WATERS
(Gorge Amphitheatre) Pre-Dark Side of the Moon Pink Floyd records, spoken of with such reverence by latter-day noise rock cultists, had a lot more to do with Syd Barrett than Roger Waters. Barrett ended up where most visionaries fall--off the edge. Waters burst into full bloom on the Floyd LPs of the late '70s, and especially on 1979's The Wall. The records are self-important, lurid, histrionic, and overstated--everything the ark of indie rock was launched to escape. Still, we probably wouldn't have Mercury Rev or The Moon & Antarctica without Waters. His music is cotton candy with nuts, but in our post-everything moment, it tastes terrific. GRANT COGSWELL
DUDLEY MANLOVE QUARTET
(I-Spy) Dudley Manlove was originally a side project for a bunch of guys who played in some other band whose name I can't remember. The side project surprised them all by becoming better known and more successful than the band it was originally meant to supplement. Hence, you can hear Dudley Manlove at I-Spy, whereas I'm not sure if the original band still exists. GENEVIEVE WILLIAMS
NOMEANSNO, RUBY DOE, REMOVAL, ADZ
(Graceland) At the core of this tight and explosive punk band from Victoria are the Wright brothers on the kit and bass. From this rhythm section emerge songs of epic proportion and mechanical precision, scandalizing everyday consumerist society with mythic insight and paradoxical spinnings. Having stomped across the music industry since '81, you can expect that their show will leave an indelible imprint upon your brain as you walk away. KREG HASEGAWA
CANDYE KANE
(Catwalk) Candye Kane's new album is called The Toughest Girl Alive, and man, you better believe it. On one record she described herself as a "fat, illegitimate, X-rated welfare mom from East L.A." Forget the effervescent trendiness of swing; Kane does this 'cause she loves it. She's got incredible range and power, and a message: Be true to yourself. That may seem like a Disney-esque sort of theme for someone who sings about seduction ("She Was My Baby Last Night"), affairs ("Let's Commit Adultery"), and jealousy ("Who Walks in When I Walk Out"), but trust me, she makes it work. GENEVIEVE WILLIAMS
SAGE, DIAMOND FIST WERNY
(Crocodile) In a world where "alternative" music sounds corporatized, sanitized, and neutralized, Sage and Diamond Fist Werny seem truly revolutionary. Which, of course, makes them a more-than-welcome breath of fresh air. You can take your Korns and your Limp Bizkits and your Eminems--I'd happily inhabit a world where Sage's Middle-Eastern-tinged prog-rock and Diamond Fist Werny's global goulash reigned supreme. BARBARA MITCHELL
NEVADA BACHELORS, SPYGLASS CD RELEASE, SUSHI ROBO
(Tractor Tavern) It's summer. Standing in the Bauhaus coffee shop, overlooking downtown on a busy afternoon, a migraine is ringing loudly in my head as the sun bores in through the IMAX windows. I feel inexplicably cheerful. Sometimes a good attitude is irrepressible, despite all the evidence of discouraging duplicity and conniving underhandedness in the world. The Nevada Bachelors are stuck in my head. GRANT COGSWELL
SHANNON CURFMAN, ROBERT BRADLEY'S BLACKWATER SURPRISE
(Showbox) It's the guiding principle of popular music today: Get some white boys together, teach them how to sing and dance like African Americans, and somebody is gonna get rich. The same approach seems to be ruling the blues today, where Jonny Lang and Shannon Curfman, two white teenagers from North Dakota, are the biggest names on the horizon. And now here's a new twist on the Death of the Blues: Blind blues/gospel singer Robert Bradley had to be backed by a white indie-rock trio before he got signed by a major label. This will be a nice show for those who always thought the blues were a bit too bluesy. NATHAN THORNBURGH
THE NEW BOMB TURKS, ZEKE, THE SPITFIRES
(Graceland) Whoever booked this spit-flyin', high-octane, punk-riffic bill is either extremely twisted, has never owned an item of dry-clean-only clothing, or is in cahoots with America's Most Wanted, because the thought of not one but TWO of this country's most ass-kickin' live bands on the same bill is almost more than any sane human being could possibly take. Which might just be the point. BARBARA MITCHELL
SUSANA BACA
(Century Ballroom) The Century Ballroom, located in a slightly worn building across from KFC, could be just another all-American bucket-of-wings kind of concert hall. But last time I went there, Yerba Buena and legendary flautist Richard Egues were serving up nothing but delicious Cuban pork chunks and congri. This Saturday, the Century will be pure fried guinea pig (a Peruvian specialty), as Susana Baca brings the music of Black Peru to the stage. The descendant of Peruvian slaves, Baca sings high and haunting about love and loss in the barrio, and she's the rising star of David Byrne's world music label, Luaka Bop. Like fried guinea pig, her bittersweet sound tastes just enough like chicken to make Americans say "yummy." NATHAN THORNBURGH
THE TOASTERS
(Fenix Underground) Although they probably helped pave the road for the ska revival foisted at us a few years ago, you really can't fault the Toasters. They've been honing their two-tone sensibility since way-back-when (that roughly translates into "the early '80s"). They're fun and they're the real deal. BARBARA MITCHELL
DR. JOHN
(Jazz Alley) It would be cliché to refer to what Dr. John does as musical gumbo--he is from New Orleans, after all--but it would also be accurate. Really good gumbo has a lot of stuff in it, much of it not readily identifiable, but every ingredient adds something to the whole. So it is with the good Doctor, who starts with a blues and R&B base and adds fistfuls of rock and boogie, plus a dash of psychedelia and a pinch of jazz to taste. The result is unpredictable: Dr. John's made both incredible and incredibly forgettable records, but, on the whole, they're worthwhile. Head down to the Alley--the Doctor is in. GENEVIEVE WILLIAMS
GROOVIE GHOULIES, MAD CADDIES, GRADE
(Paradox) Fun fact #643: As soon as you turn your back on something, like your hometown, exciting things happen. That's the premise of almost every good horror movie. Which is only appropriate, given Sacramento band the Groovie Ghoulies' affinity for good hair-raisers. (And no, when I used the term "hair-raiser," I wasn't talking about the copious Aqua Net used on the bangs of most of my high-school classmates....) Good stuff, even if they are from Central California. BARBARA MITCHELL
WANG CHUNG, GENE LOVES JEZEBEL WITH MICHAEL ASTON, A FLOCK OF SEAGULLS, MISSING PERSONS WITH DALE BOZZIO
(Paramount) Wang Chung are best remembered for awful lyrics that stick to you like overcooked spaghetti--that, and their great hair. Gene no longer loves Jezebel; in fact, Gene would like to throw Jezebel from a speeding train. The bizarre spectacle of dueling twin brothers Jay and Michael Aston has recently resulted in Michael's ascendancy, but not for long. That Jezebel has a way of coming back to bite you in the ass, you know. A Flock of Seagulls now have just one original member--the one with the weird "waterfall" hairdo. This version of Missing Persons features founding member Dale Bozzio, that li'l bra-buster with the enormous flaming pink... well, you get the picture. But where's that too-shy Kajagoogoo guy to round out the show? MELODY MOSS
IAN BROWN
(Crocodile) See Stranger Suggests.
MĂTLEY CRĂE, MEGADETH, ANTHRAX
(Gorge Amphitheatre) You've really got to feel for Megadeth and Anthrax. They can never match the butt-rock brilliance of tour mates Mötley CrĂŒe--who currently boast an online pro-Napster cartoon ("Metalli-Greed"), touring drummer Samantha Maloney of Hole, a bevy of blond, porn-friendly former and current wives, and unbeatable jail and rehab pedigrees. Even the loss of long-schlonged Tommy Lee hasn't stopped Vince Neil & Co. So what's their secret? Umlauts. Nikki Sixx obviously has consonants to spare--couldn't the CrĂŒe, or Mötörhead, or QueensrĂżche, or somebody be persuaded to loan a few extra dots to their umlaut-deprived comrades? MELODY MOSS
GREEN DAY, NOFX, LONG BEACH DUB ALLSTARS, MXPX, SUICIDE MACHINES
(Gorge Amphitheatre) It's Our Punk Is Better Than Your Punk Day at the Gorge. "Our Punk" consists of MxPx, who are from Bremerton and therefore know all they need to about hopelessness, isolation, and rage. "Their Punk" consists of various industry twits, like the Brad-less Sublime (Long Beach Dub Allstars) and the would-be e-business titans Green Day (who offer a secure commerce server so you can buy their slightly ironic posters, shirts, and stickers online). The only thing going for "Their Punk" is that Fat Mike and his SoCal NOFX crew are for real. NATHAN THORNBURGH
BLUETIP, AUTOMATON ADVENTURE SERIES, BLUEBIRD
(Graceland) I love blue. I love blue clothing, blue cars, blue nail polish, blue shoes, blue computer accessories, blue eyes, blueberries, blue ink, Blue Velvet, "Blue Bell Knolls" by the Cocteau Twins, and blue furniture. I especially love blue food. It's a darned good thing that Bluebird and Bluetip are both good bands. Regardless of your feelings about the color blue, if you appreciate topnotch music served up Dischord-style, you won't want to miss this show--unless you really like feeling blue. BARBARA MITCHELL
THE FAINT
(Foxes) Everyone's favorite Midwestern unreconstructed new wave teenage sex band are coming to Seattle! Get your overactive libido on, and dance like you've never been kissed but think about it ALL THE TIME. Who knows when we'll see the Faint again? ERIN FRANZMAN
BARBARITO TORRES
(Jazz Alley) When music behemoth Atlantic Records started Habana Caliente last summer to cash in on the Cuban music craze, the first disc they released was Barbarito Torres' Havana Cafe. That's enough to tell you that their primary goal was to sell new records to people who already own The Buena Vista Social Club album. Mission accomplished: Not only is the lute-playing Torres a recognizable figure from the Ry Cooder project, but he is also a self-styled Cuban country boy whose love for traditional music belies the fact that he's a child of the revolution. Torres has been to Seattle before, but the Jazz Alley is by far the best venue in town for his sentimental and virtuosic boleros and guarachas. NATHAN THORNBURGH
