PEANUT BUTTER WOLF, WILDCHILD, DUDLEY PERKINS, DJ ROMES
(Chop Suey) See the Truth, page 41.
DJ VITAMIN D, BIG PARTEE, MANIC, THE NOTE FROM NARCOTIK, LAST MEN STANDIN, GUESTS
(Safari Club) Independent, small, and ambitious, the Sport-N-Life label has released several entirely self-produced hiphop 12-inches and CDs, one of which, Compilation Vol. 1. , contains a who's who in Seattle hiphop--from Silent Lambs Project, to Central Intelligence, Bean One, and Oldominion. The label also organizes a popular hiphop night on Thursdays at the Safari Club, which is in the heart of the most diverse neighborhood in Seattle, Columbia City. This Thursday, producer and DJ Vitamin D is rocking the wheelz of steel while Sport-N-Life's recording artists (Big Partee, Manic, the Note from Narcotik, Last Men Standin--to name a few) pass the mic. CHARLES MUDEDE
THE DECEMBERISTS, EARLIMART, LAURA VEIRS
(Crocodile) With most folks just a pink slip away from a life of fingerless gloves, lukewarm gruel, and matchstick-peddling, recommending a band whose approach to lyrics recalls Charles Dickens is dicey. But Decemberists songwriter Colin Meloy fashions indelible characters, and steers them through perilous predicaments--like the doughboys in love in the trenches of "The Soldiering Life"--with such grace that one cannot help but surrender to the sepia-toned world of Her Majesty the Decemberists, the Portland quintet's second album. Meloy's compatriots frame his aching tenor with old-timey timbres like accordion and glockenspiel, plus deftly executed guitar and keyboard parts, culminating in an entertainment a hell of a lot livelier than huddling by the stove with Bleak House cradled in your lap. KURT B. REIGHLEY
MURDOCK
(Bad Juju) It's like Mötley Crüe without the makeup and spandex (I assume--I've never seem Murdock in person) back in the days before they got all bloated and still did all the crazy shit that made The Dirt such a perfect read. I'm talking snotty, dirty, hard rock/heavy groove/metal combos that are meaner than a Jack Daniel's hangover. JENNIFER MAERZ
THE FALL OF TROY, STARING BACK, NEAR MISS, GUESTS
(Studio Seven) The Fall of Troy, a trio of boys (with less than 20 years apiece under their belts) from Mukilteo, blew my mind this past summer with their organized chaos and ever since I've been anxiously awaiting the November CD release date of their debut record on Lujo, recorded by Joel Brown at the Hall of Justice. Well, my friends, November has arrived, and if you have yet to get on the boat with this band, you're gonna want to come to tonight's CD release party before it's anchors aweigh. The show is also a benefit party for Bandoppler, a local independent music and culture magazine. If you're a supporter of the local music, missing this show would just be plain stupid. MEGAN SELING
FRIDAY 11/7
JON LANGFORD, THE NELS CLINE CASIO CONSPIRACY, THE NOE VENABLE TRIO
(Sunset) See Drunk by Noon, page 43.
Fruit bats, the vells, metric
(Graceland) See Stranger Suggests, page 22.
THE FALL-OUTS, THE CRIPPLES, HEAD
(Fun House) Okay... I'll TRY to keep this short! For those not in the know... Head are one of the most simple, straightforward punk bands. Not "simplistic" simple, but smart and driving, no-nonsense, you know. The Fall-Outs... how do I say... they are (ahem) the think man's rock and they are very respectable gentlemen. The Cripples, they are of the nu wave, who were fucking it FUCKED like it oughta be fucked, in '95, while garage punks were still garage punkin'! But, what makes me think they are the most clever ever is how their brand of "we make holes in pop" is just accessible enough that they oughta be rich/famous AND dating Ashton by now, but that's just me. MIKE NIPPER
SATURDAY 11/8
SPIRITUALIZED, SOLEDAD BROTHERS
(Showbox) See preview, page 36.
THE THRILLS, ADAM GREEN, LOW FLYING OWLS
(Crocodile) With Friends of Mine, this year's follow-up to his primarily four-tracked 2002 release Garfield, Moldy Peach (what the hell happened to that band, anyway?) Adam Green takes to the studio for the first time--expanding his clunky, sophomoric folk vision with a full band and sentimental string swells. The results, as per usual, are uniformly indulgent--awash in heavily polished scatology. Not without its moments, certainly (his loving tribute to the misfortune of Jessica Simpson is heartwarming, to be sure), but the charms found on Green's debut--all of those unpolished turds--are made to feel a bit ridiculous up on the big screen. ZAC PENNINGTON See also Stranger Suggests, page 22, and Live Wire, page 39.
PEDRO THE LION, ROCKY VOTOLATO, THE PALE
(Graceland, late) The Pale's lead singer, Bellingham's Gabe Archer, has a voice that reminds me of Blair Shehan of Knapsack and the Jealous Sound fame (which is definitely a good thing). In fact, there's an overall Jealous Sound feel to the Pale, especially on the title track to Gravity Gets Things Done, with sounds building and then breaking... maybe there's even a taste of Death Cab for Cutie in there? Anyway, the kids call it "power-pop," but I think the Pale add a few extra layers than most straight-ahead power-pop outfits, making for a more interesting sound that will stick with you well after the songs are over. MEGAN SELING
ALTA MAY, WATERY GRAVES, TRACTOR SEX FATALITY, GOLDEN PIG ELECTRIC BLUES BAND
(Fun House) Nothing is calm in the world of Tractor Sex Fatality. Lyrics are screamed out like the bad guys in a botched bank robbery shouting orders at both their captives and each other, the two drummers pound out the sounds of a riot where the crowds' footfalls are stampeding in different directions, and the sinister guitars and bass lines create a minimal sense of order. It's noisy, it's chaotic, it's good times, and it's a great reason to keep your distance when their frontman goes barreling into the crowd. JENNIFER MAERZ
THE DT'S, THE VON ZIPPERS, HONKY K.O.
(Comet) At a time of year when most people are focused on stuffing their own gullet, Dave Crider and the Estrus crew are looking to feed a more selfless cause. Crider is holding a couple of benefit shows this month to help out Northwest Harvest, the organization of Seattle-area food banks. On the bill are his own blues rockers the DT's, Calgary's blue-collared punks the Von Zippers, and Honky K.O., a band claiming to have formed in prison to write about all the things they couldn't do behind bars (which should've provided for a wealth of material). JENNIFER MAERZ
SUNDAY 11/9
LUCINDA WILLIAMS, EASTMOUNTAINSOUTH
(Moore) See Drunk by Noon, page 43.
BENEFIT FOR DUB NARCOTIC SOUND SYSTEM FEATURING STEVE FISK, IQU, INTERNAL/EXTERNAL, DJ SHANNON
(The Go Club) On the heels of their recently completed new record, IQU, the city's most aesthetically pleasing electronic duo, perform their first public show of the year (and forever, really) as a welcomed band-aid for the growing medical costs of a post-van-wreck Dub Narcotic Sound System. Joining IQU is regional sound legend Steve Fisk, and the electronic tinkerings of Paul Schuster's Internal/External. ZAC PENNINGTON
KILLING JOKE, AMEN
(Showbox) Anyone tired of Dave Grohl's goofy appearances on SNL and Late Show with David Letterman or the Foo Fighters' spiral into rock mediocrity should immediately pick up Killing Joke's latest, eponymous release. The former Nirvana drummer redeems himself by beating the unholy crap out of the skins for the band who, in my mind, were the first to fuse the alienation and anger of punk with the insatiable energy of metal back in the late '70s, more than a decade before Rage Against the Machine and Faith No More took the formula primetime. Singer Jaz Coleman assembles the original cast (Geordie Walker, Paul Raven, Youth), along with Grohl, to crank out the group's best album since 1990's Extremities, Dirt and Various Repressed Emotions. It's full of the same apocalyptic paranoia and political fury KJ became famous for 20 years ago. And I have no doubt that fans of Amen, hardcore's newest heroes, will embrace the legendary punk-metal pioneers. DAVID SLATTON
MONDAY 11/10
QBERT, Z-TRIP, X-ECUTIONERS, JAZZY JAY, DJ SCENE
(Chop Suey) See preview, page 33.
LILLIX, THE PEAK SHOW, BRASSY, THE START, DJ COLBY
(Graceland) As if one Avril Lavigne mall punk wasn't enough, now there's a band of four "alternative" girls with "attitude" who write pop songs about, like, you know, stuff, that'll sell tons of records if they can just get Hot Topic to put the Lillix record in heavy rotation. Total! At least Brassy's Muffin Spencer seems to have a mind of her own, although the indie-band-with-a-beat's latest release, Gettin Wise, sounds nearly as dully slick as the headliner's--you can slide from start to finish on Brassy's sophomore album without realizing the same flat dance track wasn't just stuck on repeat. JENNIFER MAERZ
TUESDAY 11/11
FIREWATER, SAINT BUSHMILL'S CHOIR, HOLY GHOST
(Chop Suey) See preview, page 33.
THE RAPTURE, OUT HUD, BEANS, DJs CHILD OF THE MOON & KENDRA
(Graceland) Backlash be damned--I still hold a very warm spot in my heart for the Rapture. And though I've grown as wary of the DFA's (already) static production sensibility as the next hypocritical dissenter, I have to admit my legitimate excitement at the notion of Echoes, the Rapture's second full-length, finally dropping last month. So, how is it? No, not as good as they say it is--and not as bad, either. It is alternatingly exactly what you'd expect (Hello? Happy Mondays?), and nothing at all like it (Hello? Chamber pop?). Sure, a bit of a letdown--but at least it doesn't sound like a Daft Punk record. Not all of it, anyway. ZAC PENNINGTON See also Data Breaker, page 35.
LILYS, BLACK NITE CRASH
(Crocodile) American bands that ape the Brits are rarely as cheese-deficient as the Lilys. And as far as the new shoegazer trend goes, these guys have been incorporating My Bloody Valentine and the Kinks into their sound since 1999. The newest disc, Precollection, is splashy, jangly, and shimmering with lush pop, sounding almost Doors-ish at times. But you can rest assured that all of the songs sound fresh as today's music can be. KATHLEEN WILSON
WEDNESDAY 11/12
THEMSELVES, CLUE TO KALO, GUESTS
(Graceland) See preview, page 35.
THE MALINKS, AT THE SPINE, LITTLE BITCHES
(ConWorks) When the Malinks' record, I Can't Shake Last Night, came to me, it was passed along with a suggestion that it's reminiscent of Weezer, a band I have loved for about a decade now. Most people would say that hoping it'd give me more interest in listening to it, a little initiative--but really, such a bold statement can be quite detrimental. With the suggestion firmly planted, I put the CD in the player, and while it certainly is reminiscent of Weezer, it isn't Weezer! Just because it's indie pop with melodies doesn't mean it's Weezer. But the Malinks aren't trying to be Weezer, and I appreciate them for that. They're happy doing their own version of glittery, clean indie rock. I have to be honest and say for the record that it isn't extraordinary, but there definitely are some gems on the band's first release. Especially "Starlit," whose opening line, "I don't have to close my eyes to see my place in the sun," is sung so sweetly, I couldn't help but smile to myself. MEGAN SELING
JOSH ROUSE
(Chop Suey) Nostalgia isn't what it used to be, and singer-songwriter Josh Rouse knows it. While drawing on the influences of classic soul and songwriters' pop--Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, Al Green, and Carole King--he infuses them with a 21st-century perspective. On his fifth album, 1972, Rouse has hit his stride and the perfect balance of homage and freshness, with warm, lush arrangements filling out his sharp compositions. Songs such as "Come Back (Light Therapy)" and "Flight Attendant" are perfectly placed where melancholy is tempered by dark humor. The album may hark back to the days when artists made substantial music in classic forms--like slow-grooved soul with light touches of Wurlitzer, flute, and strings, and Brill Building pop with its distinctive arrangements--but it was recorded on a computer with producer Brad Jones, not on a vintage sound board and tube amps. 1972 reminds me of some favorite old records without making me feel that I may as well be listening to the prototypes it draws on, because Rouse himself is an original. NATE LIPPENS
ELEFANT, THE JOGGERS, DECIBULLY
(Crocodile) If you take for granted that it's not the most imagination-exploding name to brand your band with, Diego Garcia's Elefant glints off the waters of New York City's endangered garage-rock revival with the sparkle of mid-'80s indie-pop. I'm told to think the Cure by a hype virusing in the ear ("Just like the Rapture!"), but Elefant's leisured gray is closer to the dark and glamorous celebration of Echo & the Bunnymen, with a back-end amplified by Detroit rock drums and alternating acoustic and electric guitars that sound like Scottish car keys dropped on the pavement. You shouldn't let stories of ironic onstage gold chains sour you all the way off. Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid (Kemado) might as well have been written for our city's welcome signs. GUY FAWKES
