DOLOUR, THE LASHES, THE TAURUS PEDALS, UNITED STATES OF ELECTRONICA
(Crocodile) The thing about Dolour is you kind of don't want to like people who are so good looking and who can play several instruments, and who can write short, sharp pop songs with hooks for miles, and whose Marianas Trench-style cheekbones are still plastered inescapably all over town. But then, by the power of Grayskull, you do like them, because they're really good. They're fighting the fight for pop music in a town increasingly dominated by half-assed garage punk that needs costumes and skin mutilations to validate its increasingly redundant gestures. As a wise man once said, pop is better. And it is. SEAN NELSON
FONTANELLE, ELECTRIC BIRDS, MODULE, STRATEGY
(Chop Suey, early) Fontanelle is the end product of the breakup of wonderfully dreamy droners Jessamine. Former members Rex Ritter and Andy Brown take the flexibility that instrumentalism affords and use it to the extreme on Fontanelle's new album, Style Drift, which can only be described as funky. Frankly, Style Drift makes me yearn for Jessamine, but devoted fans might be intrigued by the Wurlitzer-driven synth funk. KATHLEEN WILSON
PETER CASE, PETE KREBS
(Tractor) Once a member of the Plimsouls, Peter Case obliterates all of his past with his formidable solo career. He stands as a troubadour with the likes of Jonathan Richman, Mark Eitzel, and John Wesley Harding, singing of bars and drunks and haphazard heartache with a storyteller's flair. His phrasing is key and he does it well. Formerly of Hazel, Pete Krebs also sings rich narratives of a vagabond lifestyle. If you're a fan of music that haunts you for days, this is most certainly your bill. KATHLEEN WILSON
FRIDAY 1/17
JOSEPH ARTHUR, RECLINERLAND
(Crocodile) See Stranger Suggests, page 27.
ROBERT ROTH, ALTA MAY, THE MAKEOUT CHOIR
(Chop Suey) Former Truly frontman Robert Roth's solo effort, Rough Mixes, is a mélange of styles: the Beatles here, Rain Parade there, surges of psychedelic melodies, and horns, too. Roth doesn't rock as hard as Truly, but the pop is firmly in place, dreamy and warm and definitely influenced by the Paisley Underground. Pretty damn good. KATHLEEN WILSON
CHRISTIAN McBRIDE, BOBBY WATSON, BRUBECK INSTITUTE JAZZ QUINTET
(EMP) The Brubeck Institute was established in 2000 at the University of the Pacific in honor of great jazz composer but mediocre jazz pianist Dave Brubeck. Every year, five young and brilliant musicians are selected from around the country to study and improve their licks in the institute's performance-based program. Youth! Talent! Jazz! What more could you ever desire? The 2002-2003 fellowship recipients are all sexy. CHARLES MUDEDE
THE CRIPPLES, THE THERMALS, MS. LED, NEW LUCK TOY
(Vera Project) In case you didn't read my ejaculatory praise of the Thermals in Stranger Suggests (see page 27), let me reiterate: This is a great band, a band that pulls you out of the slough of despond and deposits you in the middle of a joyous basement sun, a band that puts the "free" back in free association, a band that must be embraced. Also on the bill is Ms. Led, a band that appears to have affected a complete metamorphosis from its days as Lesliwood and its leader's membership in the dour (but excellent) Saeta. Born again hard and new-wave rockin', Ms. Led is a heavy dose of a different kind of pleasure. SEAN NELSON
THE REAL McKENZIES, THE POPULAR SHAPES
(Graceland) Their addresses may say Vancouver, BC, but the Real McKenzies have been playing Scottish punk for almost a decade, complete with bagpipes, accents, and songs about Scotch and Scots. Their upbeat, punchy, snotty rock anthems are aggressive in their pursuit of the "goot times," hence the multiple references to the poisons of their choice within their lyrics and on album titles like 2002's Pissed Tae th' Gills. Definitely a night that'll bring the rowdy ones out in droves. Speaking of the Scottish, though, what's up with Seattle's giant Utilikilts store? Did I miss something there? JENNIFER MAERZ
SATURDAY 1/18
CHARMING SNAKES, COBRA HIGH, THESE ARMS ARE SNAKES
(Chop Suey) See preview, page 45.
DEL THA FUNKEE HOMOSAPIEN, BUKUE ONE, BOOM BAP PROJECT, DJ SCENE
(Showbox) See Stranger Suggests, page 27.
BILL FRISELL'S 858 QUARTET FEATURING HANK ROBERTS, EYVIND KANG, JENNY SCHEINMAN
(EMP) The New Yorker has written this about the man who is known as the Clark Kent of jazz guitar: "Bill Frisell plays the guitar like Miles Davis played the trumpet: In the hands of such radical thinkers, the instruments simply become different animals. And, like Davis, Frisell loves to have a lot of legroom when he improvises--the space that terrifies others quickens his blood." In the whole wide world of music, you could not receive a higher compliment than to be compared with Miles Davis. Based on what I have heard of Frisell's music--which is not nearly enough--I can say that the man is certainly great. But to say he plays like Miles Davis is to say he plays like God. Is Frisell God? No. He is great but not God. Amen. CHARLES MUDEDE
THE DT'S, THE HONKY METERS, BURNS LIKE HELLFIRE
(Sunset) The DT's features Estrus Records' Dave Crider, who plays guitar in this excellent hard soul act, with drummer Phil Carter and singer Diana Young-Blanchard rounding out the trio. Young-Blanchard is a woman who grew up singing Janis Joplin and Grace Slick in biker bars for tips, and her husky, heavy delivery shows the devotion she's given to her idols (who also include Tina Turner and Etta James), as well as her talent for sounding like a woman who doesn't need to prove exactly how and when she's paid her dues. She has a strong, charismatic presence live, and the rest of the band is equally adept at getting the crowd moving (especially Crider, a man who never seems to sit still). JENNIFER MAERZ
MEDLAR DOSS, LOS INSECTOLEROS, BACCHUS
(The Comet) Get your metal fix at the Comet tonight, as Olympia's Bacchus bury you under their elephantine sludge. The band was featured as part of last year's Loudfest at Sit & Spin, and for good reason--these guys make sinkhole-sized noise, losing you in their mammoth riffs and drum beats that smack the puny down like the hand of (a rock) god. Los Insectoleros share the bill, with tonight being their farewell show before one half of the guitar/drums duo leaves for Austin. JENNIFER MAERZ
SUNDAY 1/19
Woman, please.
MONDAY 1/20
THE USED, TAKING BACK SUNDAY, BLOOD BROTHERS, NEW TRANSIT DIRECTION
(Showbox) I first felt the humid strain of the Blood Brothers' impending break early last month at their celebratory appearance at the new Vera space: Approaching the foot of the stage (a little slice of heaven I've become pretty comfortable with at Blood Brothers shows), I took solace in my familiar brotherhood--the feeble, pasty frames that so often surround me in this euphoric circle. And then I turned around. Thick necks, hemp necklaces, broad shoulders, baseball caps--I tapped my friend on the shoulder, pointing. "We are so fucked," he laughed nervously. And we were. We were so fucked. I got out pretty much unscathed (dignity is another matter altogether), but left feeling more than a little cheated. Now that they've begun the promotional circus that's gearing up for the release of Burn Piano Island, Burn (see MTV.com, RollingStone.com, etc.), it's only gonna get worse, kids. Please understand: This isn't an elitist plea, or some spoiled little secret temper tantrum. I wish nothing short of global domination for the Blood Brothers. But when you muscle-choked hordes start showing up at the shows, just be careful with us skinny kids--we're fragile, and we break easy. ZAC PENNINGTON
JONATHAN RICHMAN, TOMMY LARKINS
(Tractor) Ever seen Jonathan Richman walking down the street? Alone maybe, a worn guitar case at his sharply blazered side? It's a shocking sight to behold. The irrepressible man-child, the suave sultan of calculated "sincerity," the reason for living (okay, maybe that one's just mine)--Jojo's over 50, folks. At his last Crocodile appearance, I nearly collided with the hangdog expression of a wary old man. "Pardon me," I said, greeted with a visage of uncanny familiarity. Walking away, it took a few minutes for me to make the connection. The model of youth incarnate... got old. There's no hope for any of us. You wouldn't know it from the audience, however--in the glow of the stage lights, the shell of Jonathan the man dissolves, and Jonathan the entertainer is reborn. He's a pied piper of the heart, and every audience member willingly follows him over the precipice of love, grinning and swooning the whole way down. ZAC PENNINGTON
MANPLANET, GROOVIE GHOULIES, THE LASHES
(Graceland) Minneapolis-based Manplanet were doing the '80s thing way before it was fashionable, which means they do it right. Think of Gary Numan, the Buzzcocks, and the Cars' "Moving in Stereo" and you've got a pretty good idea of what to expect. The Groovie Ghoulies... what can I say? They've been around for a long time and folks love the shit out of them and always will. The Lashes are a spectacle as much as they are a pop band. Singer Ben Clark is the guy who drives that baby-blue station wagon with the flames painted on it. He'll sell it to you if you want. KATHLEEN WILSON
TUESDAY 1/21
BUCK 65, NORMAN, DJ DOZE
(Chop Suey) See preview, page 41.
JONATHAN RICHMAN, TOMMY LARKINS
(Tractor) See Monday listing.
THE FIRE THEFT, VERONA
(Graceland) Please forgive me for saying so, but I didn't start really liking Sunny Day Real Estate until they went all broadsword on The Rising Tide. That's why the name of the new three-quarters SDRE project, the Fire Theft, with all its Promethean pomp, was so encouraging. Then I went to the website and downloaded the sample song, "It's Over," and guess what? It's killer. It sounds exactly how you'd expect it to sound--beautiful and strong, distinguished by limber playing and Jeremy Enigk's unearthly voice. Man, that guy can sing. According to the site (www.thefiretheft.com), the band has recorded a total of 15 songs for a forthcoming debut CD, which we can expect soonish on a label to be determined. Let's see, what else? Oh yeah, bassist Nate Mendel is on tour with the Foo Fighters, so Nick Macri of the Heroic Doses will be filling in. Is that all? Yes, that's all. SEAN NELSON
WEDNESDAY 1/22
THE THERMALS, THE INTELLIGENCE, THE LIGHTS, THE DARK PLACES
(Crocodile) See Stranger Suggests, page 27.
MINUS THE BEAR, NOISE RATCHET, PIEBALD
(Graceland) Piebald is a band I've praised and loathed all in the same conversation. One week I'll love 'em (especially their older, more hardcore stuff found on the double CD Barely Legal/All Ages). But the next week I'll roll my eyes and make fun of the fact that they're all goofy-lookin' geeks who write songs about their tour van ("King of the Road"). But I'll be honest: I still really like that band. I've liked them ever since a friend introduced me to their records about a year ago. And while I may stand in the crowd scowling with my arms crossed, cursing them for not playing "Pretty Face" or "Watch Her Flow," secretly, I'll be singing along with every song (even the dumb one about the tour van). But should they want to relive the good ol' days, I'll happily second that. Singer Travis Shettel underwent throat surgery late last year (all the rock action caused the formation of blood blisters on the poor man's throat--ouch!) but after a successful surgery he's all healed up and has been given the doc's okay to rock. No excuses, guys, scream your fuckin' faces off. MEGAN SELING
