THURSDAY 9/7
WOODEN OCTOPUS SKULL PFESTIVAL
(Conjuring Room) See preview, and The Score.
THE HUNGRY PINES, SHORTHAND FOR EPIC, VIA, UKULELE POP
(Comet) Shorthand for Epic is one of the latest acts to join Seattle's expansive music scene, but you've probably never heard them because you're too busy reading Pitchfork and arguing with your friends about which songs were overlooked on their "200 Greatest Songs of the 1960s" list. Well, stop it, because who cares? Get with the now. Shorthand for Epic is the now. The music feels like Billy Joel clashing with the Arcade Fire, and the vocal melodies encompass the same endearing catchiness as the Mates of State. It's upbeat, full of hooks, and tonight they celebrate the release of their three-song debut. Get off the computer and go. MEGAN SELING
SPACE CRETINS, MOC MOC, FOUR EASY PIECES
(High Dive) Many years ago, as a fat little farm girl in North Dakota, I let the media condition me into believing that every band in Seattle would be like Four Easy Pieces. You know, totally average guys who play rabid garage-punk in its purest form, sing about being broke, never utter the words "stage clothes," and don't give two fucks whether you like them (making them all that much cooler). Upon moving to Seattle in '96, I discovered the most popular band around was Super Deluxe, and my youthful theory was totally blown. MA'CHELL DUMA LAVASSAR
AMERICAN IDIOT FINALS
(Neumo's) See Rocka Rolla.
SILVER JEWS, VIVA VOCE
(Showbox) See preview.
WHITE TRASH WHIPLASH, GROWNUP TROUBLE, AMATEUR RADIO OPERATOR, THE SNAKEBITES
(Tractor) You can blame it on NASCAR, Britney, or Dubya, but man, rednecks are hot right now! White Trash Whiplash are the result of wayward punks taking country so far over the top it becomes PBR-flavored camp (think Hank Williams Jr. starring in My Name Is Earl, the musical). Their rollicking crowd pleasers like "Walmart Girl" (containing the classic line "I was lookin' at new underpants when she stole my heart") and "Double Wide" are absolute genius to those who have a Talladega Nights sense of humor. If that's not you sugar, well, kiss their grits! MA'CHELL DUMA LAVASSAR
FRIDAY 9/8
WOODEN OCTOPUS SKULL PFESTIVAL
(Conjuring Room) See preview, and The Score.
THE FATIGUES, ONTHEDOUBLE(DUTCH), KISS HER FOR THE KID, WINGS HAUSER
(Blue Moon) See Rocka Rolla.
TALIB KWELI, DJ CHAPS
(Chop Suey) Brooklyn MC Talib Kweli debuted as part of the crew Reflection Eternal, dropping "Fortified Live," that seminal 12-inch from Rawkus Records' indie-hop heyday. Ever since, particularly after his Kanye-assisted hit "Get By," Talib has become rap's go-to "conscious" rapper (when it's not Common's turn); however, his nasal voice, awkward delivery, and recent need to replicate the success of "Get By" have put me off, even though he's dropped some gems over the years. Just don't tell that to hardcore Kweli fans: They'll smack you with a tofu patty in a NY minute. LARRY MIZELL JR.
BULLET CLUB, HEARSEBURNER, PRIZE COUNTRY
(Comet) See Rocka Rolla.
OFH 14th ANNIVERSARY: SCHOOLYARD HEROES, SPECIAL GUESTS
(Old Firehouse) See Stranger Suggests, page 25.
THE DANDY WARHOLS, BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE, THE TYDE
(Showbox) Sure, these are great bands, but we all know what this show is about: antics. Shit-talking, beer-spitting, guitar-smashing antics. Right? Aren't these guys supposed to fight to the death onstage every time they get in a room together? Well, whether they have "beef" (as the kids say) tonight, there'll definitely be "the junkie song," "the GAP commercial song," and, last but not least, "the Veronica Mars song!" Clearly, the Dandy Warhols are the winners here, and these songs are only a taste of their pop prowess. Maybe Brian Jonestown Massacre have settled more comfortably into their role as the Dandies' foil since Dig, but we can still hope for blood. ERIC GRANDY
MARK FARINA, RAOUL BELMANS
(Neumo's) See Data Breaker.
CRAZY FOR JANE, KRISTIN ALLEN-ZITO, DASHEL SCHUELER
(Dearborn House) Kristin Allen-Zito is one-fourth of local electro-pop ensemble the Trucks, who craft uproariously funny and skeletal ditties like "Faux Play" and "Big Afros." Allen-Zito's folk-rock solo material is equally stripped down, smart, and sassy, but the humor is more pointed, less cartoonish. "Just His Girlfriend," one of the highlights on her album Helium, takes aim at all things emo, skewering "rock and roll for the white-belted white boys... with nothing better to cry about" with sly-but-vicious precision. KURT B. REIGHLEY
SATURDAY 9/9
WOODEN OCTOPUS SKULL PFESTIVAL
(Conjuring Room) See preview, and The Score.
THE DITTY BOPS, DATRI BEAN
(Chop Suey, early) The Ditty Bops arrive in Seattle near the end of a cross-country bike tour, a throwback approach to band travel that fits the Los Angeles—based duo's anachronistic songs. Pedal-weary as they might be, Amanda Barrett (mandolin) and Abby DeWald (guitar) play effervescent sets, supplementing clever country-folk and hot jazz tunes with costumes, props, and vaudevillian interplay. Showstoppers such as "Your Head's Too Big" and "Angel with an Attitude" combine witty lyrics, inescapable hooks and hermetically sealed harmonies. The Bops' spontaneity-driven variety-show-style concerts combine the excitement of not knowing what's next with the assurance that whatever it is will be entertaining. ANDREW MILLER
KJ SAWKA, BETHURUM COLLECTIVE, SOLOVOX
(Chop Suey, late) KJ Sawka is Kevin Sawka, a live drum 'n' bass drummer/DJ and a freak of breakbeat nature. He plays the machines and the machines play him back. There are nine kick pedals, for one person. But Sawka isn't really a person, he's a droid—a Terminator droid. Inside his body, there are cogs, motors, and cameras for eyes. His brain is an 808 drum machine. Like Schwarzenegger, Sawka is all circuitry, steel, and synthetics. He's a good Terminator droid, though. He is programmed to protect you by kicking out the most ludicrous beats you will ever see anyone play in your life. TRENT MOORMAN
THE TRACHTENBURG FAMILY SLIDESHOW PLAYERS, BABY GRAMPS
(Crocodile, early) Kids: gotta love 'em, but unexpected stork visits have put many a great band on permanent hiatus. Breeding rockers who aren't ready to slip into adulthood just yet should find inspiration in the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players. The Trachtenburgs, a goofy married couple with their 12-year-old daughter sitting behind the skins, take their already unusual arrangement a step further by performing live indie-pop soundtracks to slide shows they've unearthed at thrift stores and estate sales (a good concept goes a long way, doesn't it?). Make sure and show up at 5:00 p.m. for this early show; the kid's got to get to bed at a reasonable hour, you loadies! JOSH BLANCHARD
IAN GILLAN
(Crocodile, late) Most budding rockers had their first exposure to Ian Gillan's majestic, wide-ranging voice when a cool uncle dropped the needle on Deep Purple's Machine Head or their older brother taught them how to play "Smoke on the Water." I don't think my father, a Presbyterian minister, meant to turn me on to one of heavy metal's most definitive vocalists when he brought home the soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar (Gillan was indeed, the Son of God), but he did. Thanks, Dad! HANNAH LEVIN
THE ZOMBIES, PHANTOM PLANET, THE MOONEY SUZUKI, THE WOGGLES, BOSS MARTIANS
(El Corazón) The Zombies consistently maintain an admirable place among history's "bands that were not quite as good as the Beatles/Beach Boys" litany (in the enviable company of the Kinks, the Pretty Things, and Love). The British group's hits (mostly "Time of the Season") have welcomed steady employment by unimaginative movie-soundtrack producers for the better part of three decades. Though their rocky saga ended for all intents and purposes in 1967—just in time to release the landmark Odessey and Oracle posthumously—there have been several revivals in recent years revolving around primary songwriter Rod Argent and original vocalist Colin Blunstone—of which this is yet another. With that O.C. band. ZAC PENNINGTON
BLĂ–Ă–DHAG, ME INFECTO, GORCH FOCK, STOVOKOR
(Funhouse, late) While some acts in the rarefied "schtick-core" genre are dizzyingly high concept, à la headliners BlöödHag, the beauty of Portland's Stovokor is the genius logic of its simplicity: Klingons playing black death metal. Of course—what the fuck else would Klingons listen to? One imagines that the Klingon planetary anthem probably sounds a lot like Mayhem. The fact that their singer, pInluH HoD, is seven feet tall, has only one hand, and the hilarity of their ingeniously abusive stage banter makes it even better. BILL BULLOCK
CENTROMATIC, ERIC BACHMANN, RICHARD BUCKNER
(Neumo's) See Rocka Rolla.
DEVO
(Paramount) See preview.
SUNDAY 9/10
WOODEN OCTOPUS SKULL PFESTIVAL
(Conjuring Room) See preview and The Score.
MELVINS, BIG BUSINESS
(Hells Kitchen, early & late) See preview.
MONDAY 9/11
MELVINS, BIG BUSINESS
(Neumo's) See preview.
DICK DALE, DALLAS ALICE
(Tractor) Though most idolized in recent years for the culturally monumental appearance of his classic "Misirlou" in the opening credits of and the hit soundtrack album for Pulp Fiction, Dick "King of the Surf Guitar" Dale is one of America's greatest living musicians. His guitar playing had a tremendous impact on followers like Jimi Hendrix, and he basically single-handedly refined the concept of "shredding." His reverb-soaked, screaming-eagle glissandos cry out as one of the greatest and purest expressions of joy/pain ever to have been wrung from the mystical convergence of machine-age ecstasy and primal brutishness that is the electric guitar. SAM MICKENS
TUESDAY 9/12
DR. DOG, COLD WAR KIDS, ELVIS PERKINS
(Crocodile) Here comes the blogosphere. Dr. Dog and Cold War Kids are both bands that I know only from geeky excursions into the internet, where both groups receive a decent amount of love (Dr. Dog from infamous fallen blogger Nick Sylvester, and Cold War Kids from the likes of Brooklyn Vegan). Philadelphia's Dr. Dog play psyched-up bar blues and '60s/'70s pastiche, while California's Cold War Kids stay more modern, sounding like a mellowed, second-generation Wolf Parade. Both are reportedly good live, but expect slightly more interesting music from Cold War Kids. Expect literate, internet-savvy nerds and mellow indie rock. ERIC GRANDY
CHARLES AZNAVOUR
(McCaw Hall) The 82-year-old music-hall vet Charles Aznavour is the closest thing there is to a French Frank Sinatra—that is, if Old Blue Eyes had been cool enough to throw the occasional ditty about transvestites into his act. (Liza Minnelli is one of Aznavor's big champions—quel surprise.) Despite having a highly expressive voice and a stage presence enhanced by years as a successful film actor, Aznavour prefers to think of himself as "a songwriter who sings," and he has a formidable catalog—including his 1974 UK chart topper "She"—to back up that claim. KURT B. REIGHLEY
WEDNESDAY 9/13
NOMEANSNO, THE INTERNATIONAL PLAYBOYS
(El CorazĂłn) See Stranger Suggests, page 25.
THRONES, ACROSS TUNDRAS
(Funhouse) If Melvins and Big Business haven't destroyed your eardrums or your appetite for bass-heavy drone, noise, and epic metal, then Thrones will do so tonight. Joe Preston is a one-man juggernaut of bass guitar, drum machines, effects pedals, and voice; his low-end experiments will melt metal and liquefy stone, to say nothing of your body and ears. But Thrones aren't all brutal loudness; Preston's compositions display moments of emotional depth and atmospheric texture just as often as they pummel the senses. Openers Across Tundras play slow, psychedelic metal that should sufficiently heavy the mood for Thrones' onslaught. ERIC GRANDY
DICK DALE, GIRL TROUBLE
(Hell's Kitchen, late) See Monday's preview.
DRAGONFORCE, ALL THAT REMAINS, HORSE THE BAND
(Showbox) Fuck yes! It's Dragonforce, motherfuckers! Is all the swearing really necessary? Fuckin' yes it fuckin' is! Because it's DRA-GON-FORCE! The most face-melting, brain-shredding fantasy metal act to ever hit the airwaves, and they're finally coming to Seattle! Holy shit! It's a big deal, dude, they ain't never been here before! Every long-haired, head-banging, brewski-chugging metal man will be there, and you know the spirit fingers will be flying in the air all fuckin' night as the crowd begs for more of their motherfuckin' heat. And damn right Dragonforce are gonna deliver. Those guys don't fuck around. MEGAN SELING
