HANK WILLIAMS III, REVEREND HORTON HEAT
(Showbox) You can hear it coming days away. It's a-janglin'. It's a-twangin'. It's a regular old-time country-rockin' tour with some of the most notable names in rockabilly today. This is the second time the Reverend has come calling here in a short while. He must like us. We better wear something real nice. Young Hank is basking in the sunshine of his appearance on the last Melvins record. Why didn't they take HIM on tour instead of Leif "God Have Mercy" Garrett? Who knows, but this seems like more of his kind of gig anyway. JUAN-CARLOS RODRIGUEZ
LLOYD COLE
(Crocodile) At first I thought I must be hallucinating. Could this really be THE Lloyd Cole, as in Lloyd Cole and the Commotions? The Lloyd Cole my college friend Kris described as "the thinking girl's pin-up guy"? The one whose eponymously titled solo album, with perfectly wrought, wry-yet-heartfelt masterpieces like "No Blue Skies," "What Do You Know About Love?" and "Undressed" didn't leave my stereo for about a year, and who hasn't toured since I don't know when? No, I'm not hallucinating. Yes, it really is him. BARBARA MITCHELL
THE HEATHENS, THE PINKOS
(Tractor Tavern) The subjects of Senator Joseph McCarthy's moistest dreams and most terrifying nightmares spring to life here in our very own city. These thoroughly un-American musicians are just the latest of a seemingly unstemmable tide of revolutionaries that would replace our beloved Christian capitalist society with a godless wasteland of unproductive goat farms and rice paddies. JUAN-CARLOS RODRIGUEZ
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
CARRIE AKRE, VOYAGER ONE
(Mural Amphitheatre) The only thing painful about Pain in the Grass shows (besides the sunburn if you're not careful) is the parking situation around the Seattle Center. This city is blessed with an abundance of talented local musicians, long and mild summer evenings, a great centrally located outdoor venue, and organizers who consistently offer stellar (and free) shows that attract a wonderfully broad spectrum of humanity. I'm not sure how your grandmother would react to the blurry, interplanetary pop of Voyager One (I think mine might like 'em), but there's no reason your entire extended family won't enjoy former Hammerbox/Goodness vixen Carrie Akre's surprisingly eclectic solo material. BARBARA MITCHELL
THE SADIES, BEACHWOOD SPARKS, THE DELTA 72
(Graceland) If you've never experienced the Delta 72 live, you owe it to yourself to make the trek to Graceland tonight. This D.C. band believes in the power of old-time rock and roll to the extent that you might find yourself wondering if this is what it was like to experience live music back when "rock and roll" was a dirty euphemism. Tonight's show also features the superb Beachwood Sparks, who draw from the Byrds' dusty, sun-drenched California landscape. BARBARA MITCHELL
M-PACT!
(Downtown Music Festival) M-Pact are extremely professional musicians. They have a glossy website, lots of sexy publicity photos (aided by some delicate makeup artistry), and, unlike most Seattle musicians, they always sing in key. However, it's hard to reconcile their sophisticated a cappella talents with their self-made pretty boy image: The end result is somewhat like an inherently flawed adult version of Making the Band. NATHAN THORNBURGH
CHRIS ISAAK
(Pier 62/63) Chris Isaak looks like a teen idol from another era; with that Ricky Nelson mouth and Elvis hair, one would expect him to be playing rockabilly nights for the pomade crowd. Instead, his sound has always consisted pretty much of one man's (very sincere) warbling voice and his trusty guitar, telling tales of love, and inevitably, loss. Non-fans will know him for that black-and-white video where Helena Christensen prances along the beach in Isaak's BVDs, sand-gritted bosoms untethered, while he keens, "No, IIIIIIII don' wanna fall in love." Or more recently for his rumbling, slightly menacing baritone on "Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing," which accompanied those teasy Eyes Wide Shut promos of Tom and Nic getting it on in front of the mirror. But dammit, there's more to this man than raw sex, and he should prove it at this show, perhaps by playing a few songs from his new album, which he describes as more "Phil Spector-ish" than previous outings. LEAH GREENBLATT
MY LIFE WITH THE THRILL KILL KULT, MEG LEE CHIN
(Catwalk) Should be pretty darned interesting to see all the freaks and geeks this veteran industrial-pop hybrid brings out of hiding and into the Catwalk's not-so-hallowed halls. Although they border dangerously close to playing up the spectacle at the risk of the music itself, no one is ever going to accuse MLWTTKK of being boring. It's highly unlikely you'll feel yourself being deprived of entertainment at this show, both onstage and off. BARBARA MITCHELL
WILLIS
(Showbox) Sometimes the best way to deal with the heat is through make-believe. So tonight, pretend it's not July. Pretend it's Halloween. Go to Value Village. If you're a guy, pick up some nice khakis and a button-down shirt, or wear jeans and a Hard Rock Cafe shirt. If you're a gal, pull some vintage Contempo Casual number off the rack. Then deck yourself out and head out to the Showbox for Willis. Don't worry. You're not likely to see anyone else you know there. Proceed to drink a lot: beer or Jäger if you're male; something you'd normally be too mortified to order. Sex on the Beach if you're female. Get so wasted that you find yourself whooping and hollering for Willis' generic frat rock. Okay, maybe not. BARBARA MITCHELL
MINUS 5, RUSTY WILLOUGHBY, THE MAROONS
(Tractor Tavern) If Scott McCaughey and the Minus 5 are taking the stage, a good time awaits--the only question is who's having more fun, the folks on stage or the folks in the audience. Although the lineup in this ever-evolving local supergroup has remained somewhat steady for the past six months (an eternity, by M5 standards), exactly who will take the stage for this evening's performance is yet to be determined as of press time. Fear not--McCaughey and his band of merry men, whoever they may be, will restore your faith in the healing powers of rock and roll. BARBARA MITCHELL
CHARLOTTE THE BARONESS
(Showbox) Fans of the San Francisco house scene will flock to this one. The Baroness truly is royalty down there, known for her early work with quintessential S.F. acid jazzers the Broun Fellinis and her long association with the Hardkiss Brothers (where have they been lately?). She looks like a baroness too, though those endless limbs and aristocratic face don't stay composed for long when she kicks into a high-gear set of deep uptempo madness. One of her best Seattle gigs ever consisted of a house-rocking old-school hiphop set put on for a small, sweaty group of kids down at the late RCKNDY, following a standard set at ARO.space. Such anomalies may be wasted on the Dedicated crowd, who expect the standards, so she'll probably stick to her usual m.o. Still, that should be plenty good enough. LEAH GREENBLATT
DON CABALLERO, RAFT OF DEAD MONKEYS
(Graceland) Heroic Spanish horsemen are not known to settle in Pittsburgh, PA, but there's always an exception to the rule. Don Caballero is a super rock band that plays heavy and riffy Champs/C Average- type music. But first, from Seattle, prophesying the imminent apocalypse, is Raft of Dead Monkeys. On their new album, the imaginations that gave birth to such a strangely disturbing band name roam freely over the landscape of the new millennium. They want you to burn it down--whatever it is--and see the filth of modern society. And they want to see you celebrating a fiery end to the world. These are a couple of fierce bands, and after this show, the apocalypse might be kinda fun. JUAN-CARLOS RODRIGUEZ
RESPECT IS BURNING PRESENTS DJs DEEP AND DIZ
(I-Spy) If you like all that super-Euro Respect Is Burning stuff, this one is for you. From laborious use of some old high-school skills, I have uncovered from DJ Deep's bio en français that he is a cohort of Laurent Garnier, and has over 10,000 records; so by simple law of averages, a number of them must be good--even excellent. Plus he's quite a star across the Atlantic, with gigs at many a large-capacity venue, and several well-received releases as well. The Respect Is Burning compilations tend to be very, well, French, but if you are able to surrender to the joyful cheesiness of it all, Deep and Diz should guarantee a fun-filled night. LEAH GREENBLATT
COOKIE
(Crocodile) Courtney Love wishes she had half the talent of Cookie's Sabrina Rockarena. This local band kicks some serious ass, offering up supercatchy punk-pop with a healthy dose of attitude (along the lines of the Muffs). Thankfully, Cookie remember the most important thing of all--that music should be fun--and the result is unpretentious, good-natured, and damn hard to resist. In fact, I've been singing along with "Your Good Girl's Gonna Go Bad" for weeks now. Look out! BARBARA MITCHELL
TENACIOUS D WITH SPECIAL GUESTS VAN SANTO CONDO AND HERMAN JOLLY
(Showbox) It appears that some lesser brainpans have taken to calling Tenacious D's Jack Black by a dirty name. ("The next Chris Farley?" Oh no you don't.) J. B. and axe-master Kyle Gass are the first motherfuckin' D, Greatest Band in the World, coming straight out the sidehatch TO-NIGHT to rock your fuckin' socks off. Miss this one and you deserved it. JASON PAGANO
JOAN ARMATRADING
(Woodland Park Zoo) How the soft summer festivals multiply. People whose parents are living probably have to go to things like this fairly often, which makes me feel lucky. The zoo is a better place to see a milquetoasty kind of show than the Pier, where the flatness of Elliott Bay would only intensify the existential vertigo of boredom, and even that water torture would beat the freeway embankment grassy hell of Redmond's WOMAD. Armatrading is the best of a bad summer that ends with the stellar Richard Thompson (but if your parents know who Thompson is, you're too young to be reading this paper). She will knock out some pop singles that will take you by surprise. Relive the unremembered sustenance they offered in those polluted years of "Tainted Love" when our hearts and brains were forming. GRANT COGSWELL
THE BLESSED LIGHT BAND
(I-Spy) See Bio Box.
TARA MaCLEAN, KENDALL PAYNE, AMY CORREIA
(Century Ballroom) With Lilith gone the way of Lollapalooza and a rosterful of quality female artists who would probably have gone over really well sharing a bill with Sarah McLachlan, the fine folks at Capitol and their affiliated labels have created a leaner (probably not meaner) club version to take up the slack. Given the unrelenting heat lately, that's probably a good thing--no need to bring sunblock to the Century Ballroom. You should find yourself pleasantly surprised by the talent represented here. BARBARA MITCHELL
THE FOR CARNATION, THE BLACK HEART PROCESSION, FONTANELLE
(Crocodile) I remember reading a review of a New Order show in The Rocket 15 years ago that said the stillness of that band onstage was stunning, adding an unforseeable gravity to what had been only spare and clean on record. I don't know what The For Carnation do with themselves onstage, but their slow, quiet dirges have more gravity than a black hole. If the yakkers at the back show up for this, they'll simply be vaporized. From their variously cobbled-together membership, TFC take the Midwestern spectrum of Slint/Palace/Seam/Elephant 6 and condense it down to an explosively hesitant, Zen-like hush. Call it Long Attention Span Theater: If you're in the mood, it'll sound just great. Otherwise, please stay in the bar. GRANT COGSWELL
LYLE LOVETT
(Pier 62/63) I'll cop to a fondness for talented, eccentric Texans with a dry sense of humor (after all, that IS the side of my family I relate to...). However, I defy anyone to resist the appeal of Lyle Lovett's left-of-the-dial style and Southern-gentlemanly charm, much less his deadpan wit and ability to spin a yarn (with or without musical accompaniment). And we haven't even approached the music itself, a multi-generation-pleasing grab bag of something old, something new, something borrowed, and something purely, undeniably, uniquely Lyle. BARBARA MITCHELL
STANLEY JORDAN
(Jazz Alley) When guitarist Charlie Hunter came cutting through the San Francisco nightclub scene playing bass lines, solos, and chords simultaneously, you had to hope he was giving Stanley Jordan some dues. That's because Jordan is the original freak guitarist, whose two-handed tapping allows him, amazingly enough, to play two separate riffs at the same time on the same instrument, or even to play two guitars at once. The only problem is that the 40-year-old Jordan, like Hunter and countless other technique-oriented jazzers, is a bit like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz: All this time on the road, and he's still looking for a heart. NATHAN THORNBURGH
THE ABYSSINIANS
(Bohemian) It has been over 30 years since the Abyssinians composed the Rasta anthem "Satta Massagana," and with age they radiate resplendent wisdom when they take the stage as the elder statesmen of reggae. Indeed, they are so finely tuned that they rarely even look at each other on stage, sharing an intuitive sense of timing, and the trio's harmonies remain unsurpassed in their purity. The Abyssinians are an essential component of reggae's past, present, and future. KRIS ADAMS
CRITTERS BUGGIN'
(Showbox) This is Critters Buggin's only show for the year 2000, which means that you'd darned better hightail it to the Showbox to catch what will most definitely be a mind-bending, consciousness-expanding, potentially life-altering presentation of groove-centric weirdness and other oddities. If you couldn't leave town for the Fourth of July holiday, here's your chance to take a cheap, quick excursion to another plane. Just don't blame me if you don't come back. BARBARA MITCHELL
THE IRISH TENORS--FINBAR WRIGHT, ANTHONY KEARNS, & RONAN TYNAN WITH THE AMERICAN FESTIVAL ORCHESTRA
(Paramount) Put down the newspaper. Go look in the mirror. Are you middle-aged and white? Do you browse home shopping networks looking for that elegant yet inexpensive gold ring? Did you buy The Most Relaxing Classical Album in the World... Ever! CD from Fred Meyer? If you answered yes to any two of these, then you just might be a Cheesy Motherfucker. Your presence as such is kindly requested at the Paramount, where three Irish blowhards will belt out syrupy medleys of "Danny Boy," backed by neoclassical orchestral music. NATHAN THORNBURGH
