Thursday 7/9

Distant Worlds: Music from Final Fantasy with Seattle Symphony

(Benaroya Hall) See The Score.

Coconut Coolouts, Mean Jeans, Little Cuts

(Funhouse) The thing to love about Coconut Coolouts is that they're always playing. Not as in they're always playing their instruments; it just feels as though they are always at play, always having fun. (Naming tracks "Party Jail" and "Shotgun Party" probably help to keep the good-times vibe a-comin'.) I don't mean this in a "they're-sure-having-fun-up-there" backhanded slap sort of way; I mean they're always experimenting and pursuing the sound of fun wherever it tries to hide. Rhythmic hand claps? Why not? What sounds like 200 people singing the chorus of a song? Sure! The Coconut Coolouts are scientists in the partyest laboratory on earth, and they want you to be a guinea pig. Say yes. PAUL CONSTANT

Seahouse, Masters and Johnson, Last Slice of Butter, The Raindrops

(Greenhouse) Somehow I've managed to miss Seahouse by just a hair every time they've played here. But it's been hard to miss the positive chatter about the band coming from colleagues, friends, even near-strangers. Recently, after arriving at a show, again, just after Seahouse played, an acquaintance was raving about the young band's unchecked impulsiveness—how they would, from one song to the next, sound like a half-dozen bands, all good, while figuring out how to sound like themselves. On the band's MySpace page, you can hear echoes of such barely older acts as No Age ("Iced Tea"), Wavves ("Summer," "Don't Care"), as well as lo-fi elders Beat Happening ("PNW"). Probably, Seahouse have adopted another half-dozen influences since posting these. This is what young bands sometimes do—stretch out in different directions at once, just to see what fits—and while it might not make for an essential debut CD, it hints at plenty of ways for the band to grow. ERIC GRANDY

Wah Wah Exit Wound, Diminished Men, the Abodox

(Blue Moon) Wah Wah Exit Wound brashly thread abrasive post-rock guitar textures through prog-rock convolutions—sort of like a less-bombastic Mars Volta or maybe Polvo tackling King Crimson's Red. Whatever the case, WWEW do their thing—a thing not many have the skill and guts to do—very well. Seattle's Diminished Men are mainly known for casting surf rock in starkly noirish shadows and infusing it with kitsch-free drama. But they also veer off the reverbed, twangy path into more abstract, chilling territory ripe for scoring classic giallo films, fusing Goblin with Ennio Morricone. The Abodox apply cataclysmic pressure to the metal genre until it becomes spectacular torrents of magma. Technical prowess meets raging fury in the Abodox's creations, and we all go home bruised and drained. Proper loud, complex music from right here. DAVE SEGAL

Skeletonwitch, Saviours, Trap Them, Black Breath

(Chop Suey) Skeletonwitch is a stupid band name. They sound fucking evil—grunting zombie vocals and guitar solos that could pierce your soul—but their name kills the vibe. I picture them sitting around, probably stoned, bantering, "Dude, you know what's scary? Skeletons." "Yeah, dude, those are scary! You know what would be even scarier? A skeleton witch!" "Fuck, man, a skeleton witch? That'd be fuckin' scary!" They might as well be called Mummywolf or Vampirefrankenstein. Openers Saviours are less goofy. Their stoner-rific metal is epic—less monster mash and more "I will punish you by way of thundering guitar riff." And their name doesn't sound like a third grader made it up. MEGAN SELING

Friday 7/10

West Seattle Summer Fest: Mudhoney, Mark Pickerel and His Praying Hands, more

(West Seattle Junction) See preview.

Bonkers!: Wisp, Relcad, the Naturebot vs. MC Anton Bomb, Dopelabs

(Re-bar) See Data Breaker.

Tears for Fears

(Chateau Ste. Michelle) Wrapping the primal-therapy indulgences of John Lennon's Plastic Ono Band in secretary-pleasing synth-pop tunes, Tears for Fears followed their wounded inner children to freakish international success in the '80s. From debut The Hurting to the Sybil-inspired Songs from the Big Chair to the stupidly eternal "the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had," Tears for Fears have comported themselves like a pair of Morrisseys with no sense of humor and endless therapy funds. Are Tears for Fears emo's unsung forefathers? Who knows, but it's only fitting they're playing the Chateau Ste. Michelle W(h)inery. DAVID SCHMADER

Schoolyard Heroes, the Pharmacy, the Whore Moans, Black Houses, Keg

(Vera) Since leaving Seattle for New Orleans last year, the charmingly messy psych-pop-punk band the Pharmacy have, as they usually do, gotten into some shenanigans (this is a band that has been arrested, broken down and stranded, and injured on tour multiple times). For example: Singer Scott Yoder is still recovering from hand surgery. "I severed the tendon in my pinkie while butchering swine at my job," he says. "I had surgery just a couple weeks ago to harvest tendon from my wrist. It was an eight-hour procedure!" Even so, the Pharmacy are not only ready to play a couple shows while in town, but they'll also be recording some new material with Calvin Havnaer of the Raggedy Anns. Cuff 'em, cut 'em, move 'em across the country—the Pharmacy will never stop. MEGAN SELING

Pterodactyl, Man Party

(Comet) Brooklyn's Pterodactyl (they must be like the 37th indie-rock band with that name, if maybe the first to break into mass subcultural consciousness) peddle a raucous version of the kind of noisy neo-psychedelia that has lately been made into big things by the likes of Animal Collective and, say, Yeasayer. Pterodactyl play guitars, bass, and drums, but they wring out of those standard instruments a loose-limbed, untethered racket that is far from ordinary; all four guys sing, but it's not folksy harmony as often as it is wildly overlapping, echoing outbursts. Nothing from their wide-ranging sophomore album, Worldwild, immediately lodges itself in my brain, but repeat listens are proving the album to be a subtly insistent suite of songs. ERIC GRANDY

The Tallboys, Slimpickins

(Tractor) I haven't heard the newest Tallboys album, but I can tell you this: The Tallboys are the best old-timey/bluegrass/square-dance band in all of Seattle. Maybe that proclamation doesn't mean as much in these post–O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack-madness days; maybe way back at the turn of the millennium, they'd get the respect they deserve from fickle scenesters. But even without the faddish followers, the Tallboys are one of the hardest-working bands in Seattle, and they consistently put on a great show. Every other band in town would kill to entertain as often and as skillfully as these guys. Watch and learn, and they'll show you how to hootenanny like there's no tomorrow. PAUL CONSTANT

Saturday 7/11

Mad Rad, Sex Symbol, Tigerbeat, Marty Mar

(Chapel) See My Philosophy.

West Seattle Summer Fest: Caspar Babypants, Thee Sgt. Major III, Team Gina, more

(West Seattle Junction) See preview.

A Drink for the Kids: Robin Pecknold, Throw Me the Statue

(Neumos) See Stranger Suggests.

The Advent & Industrialyzer, Jerry Abstract, Travis Baron, 214, PotatoFinger, Greg Skidmore

(Chop Suey) British techno producer the Advent (Cisco Ferreira) has been pushing techno's hard-line since around 1994, originally in a duo with Colin McBean, then solo from 2001 onward, and now with Industrialyzer (punchy Portuguese DJ/producer Ricardo Rodrigues). His productions have been massive, will-to-power affairs, combining finesse and aggression, and constructed for the most headstrong (and legstrong) dancers. The Advent is up there with techno warlords like Surgeon, Regis, and Cristian Vogel. Local pummelers Jerry Abstract and Travis Baron are the ideal choices to support the Advent & Industrialyzer, while Seattle's PotatoFinger is the wild card of the bunch, an eclectic producer whose "Pixilated Mayhem" is too unruly to be described in the space allotted. Just see him. DAVE SEGAL

Coldplay, Kitty Daisy & Lewis, Amadou & Mariam

(Gorge Amphitheatre) What do Coldplay have to do to earn your fucking respect? Refuse million-dollar endorsements from Gatorade, Diet Coke, and the Gap? (Check.) Devote countless hours and dollars to supporting Amnesty International and international free trade? (Check.) Work with Brian Eno? (Check.) Shove Gwyneth Paltrow off a cliff? (Pending.) Whatever the case, Coldplay continue their quest to be the most imaginatively principled rock band whose music I couldn't care less about, granting a splashy opening spot on their Viva La Vida tour to world-music superstars Amadou & Mariam. Go to see "the blind couple from Mali" rock the fucking house, stay for the perfectly respectable Grammy-winning Radiohead-lite to follow. DAVID SCHMADER

No Depression Festival: Gillian Welch, Iron and Wine, Patterson Hood & the Screwtopians, Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter, Justin Townes Earle, Jessica Lea Mayfield, Seattle All-Star Revue, Zee Avi

(Marymoor Park) Holy God. I hate festivals, but are you fucking kidding me with this lineup? Gillian Welch and Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter on the same goddamn stage on the same goddamn day? Which is not to say that Iron and Wine are anything to sneeze at, but seriously: If you're going to make a sandwich with Welch and Sykes as bread, you don't need anything in the middle. But there are plenty of reasons to hang out for the whole day: Zee Avi is a cute, promising young musician, and Justin Townes Earle is definitely on the way up, too. As the kids used to say back in the frontier days of the internet, this lineup is made of win. PAUL CONSTANT

Andy Werth, Open Choir Fire, Bad Dream Good Breakfast

(High Dive) Seattle rock trio Open Choir Fire are the sore thumb on tonight's lineup. On their new record, Dirt Bathed and Quilted (released this week), the Tacoma transplants experiment with everything from sharp, post-rock rhythms ("You Should Take the Bus") to more fluid indie-rock melodies ("Get in Line"). But billmates Bad Dream Good Breakfast and Andy Werth both boast strings and piano and a vaudevillian vibe. Weird, right? Maybe OCF did that on purpose. Maybe it's like a wedding—when you choose bridesmaids' dresses, you want them to look nice and all, but they can't be at all like your dress because you're the bride—it's your night. Well, tonight, with their new record in hand, is Open Choir Fire's night, and tonight they will shine. MEGAN SELING

Emerald City Soul Club

(Crocodile) For too long, the lines to get into Emerald City Soul Club at the Lo-Fi Performance Gallery have been, well, too long. Show up at even just 10:00 or 11:00 p.m. for the well-loved dance night, and you'd frequently find fancied-up, would-be revelers lined up down the block at a standstill. With the Lo-Fi undergoing some redesign issues, the last couple of months have been especially tough, with Soul Club split between Lo-Fi's little front room and the Victory Lounge next door. So cheers to ECSC for moving the night down to the higher-capacity Crocodile starting this month. Expect all the same rare soul 45s to be spun, all the same dressed-up dancing, but maybe just a little less of a line (and pizza from Via Tribunali instead of that one guy who shows up at last call with $5 pies of dubious origin). ERIC GRANDY

Sunday 7/12

West Seattle Summer Fest: Super Sonic Soul Pimps, Green Pajamas, more

(West Seattle Junction) See preview.

Grynch, Sol, Tunji, Rockwell Powers, DJ Marc Sense

(Nectar) Grynch refuses to sleep. His new EP, Chemistry, displays a hiphop mind that is carefully, brick by brick, developing a form of music that can withstand any kind of challenge or change in the hiphop climate. On the EP, Grynch maintains his leading theme, his leitmotif, which is how to be a rapper in a world that offers few commercial prospects. Meaning, how can you be happy just making hiphop? In the past, it was all about money and mass appeal. That is no longer the case. There's no more money to be made, and national recognition is elusive. In such conditions, does the rapper give up or make melancholy hiphop? Grynch says no. You can find happiness simply in making music and sharing it with those who really care about the art. CHARLES MUDEDE See also My Philosophy.

Monday 7/13

Psychic Ills, Indian Jewelry, Backward Masks

(Funhouse) See preview, and Stranger Suggests.

Cage, Yak Ballz, Rudy and the Rhetoric, Sadistik

(Nectar) See preview.

Tuesday 7/14

Men, Team Gina, Your Heart Breaks

(Chop Suey) Your Heart Breaks is more a story-telling collective than a band, with a rotating cast of characters. The heart and spine is Clyde Petersen, but Karl Blau, Kimya Dawson, and Laura Veirs have all been known to help tell YHB's wonderful stories, sad stories, and stories about getting stoned on a rooftop in Vancouver. In "Torrey Pines," Petersen sweetly sings a lyric that could sum up the project's reason to exist: "The shit that you've been through is the reason you're you/I bet someone is listening with a similar history/Once the words are spoken and it's all out in the open/It will help other people feel a lot less broken/So open up your mouth and let it all out/You've got to get it all out/Just get it off your fucking chest." Amen. MEGAN SELING

Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, Cryptacize, Ribbons

(Healthy Times Fun Club) Owen Ashworth's Casiotone for the Painfully Alone project stands (or hunches) as one of emotronica's most prominent figures, a poor person's Magnetic Fields. I'm too old and cynical to truly love CFTPA's morose, heart-on-sleeve bedroom ditties, but his appeal to sensitive youths is understandable. Oakland trio Cryptacize—featuring ex-Deerhoof guitarist Chris Cohen—write pretty yet jagged quasi pop, topped by smooth male/female vocals, while favoring surprising song dynamics that don't come off as overly ADHD or gimmicky. They also do a brilliant, spectral deconstruction of Steely Dan's "Peg," which I urge you to hear ASAP. It just charmed my pants off, which is problematic, as I'm in the office. DAVE SEGAL

Wednesday 7/15

GMK, Peoples, Philly Alto, R.O.B., State of the Artist, DJ Evil Twinz

(Nectar) One of my favorite local hiphop releases this year is GMK's Songs for Bloggers (post-racial hiphop in its Seattle form), and one of my favorite reviews of a local hiphop recording is Larry Mizell's critique of Song for Bloggers. Mizell writes: "GMK's own halting, abbreviated flow is a study in rap minimalism, conjuring opaque visuals about blog templates, Robot Chicken, and unfulfilling LDRs (is there another kind?) in a funky, less-is-more manner." That there is beautiful writing. As for GMK's "Games Play" off Songs for Bloggers, it's one of the most beautiful works of hiphop made in this city. GMK's art shows great promise. CHARLES MUDEDE See also My Philosophy, page 41.

Speaker Speaker, Branden Daniel & Everybody Gets Laid, Cold Cold Ground, Wildcat Choir

(Comet) Wildcat Choir are the latest effort from Erik Baldwin, former guitarist for the defunct (and excellent) Pleasureboaters and coconspirator of the Beats, Man. This newest project is more frayed blues-punk than the spastic, thrash-rock of Pleasureboaters, and the aesthetic is a great deal more menacing than the Beats, Man. Think guitar-and-drum duos like Immortal Lee County Killers or a darker, scrappier version of the Black Keys for a starting point. The rough takes available on the internets demonstrate thick, slow-burning guitar riffs and lumbering drum work (both good things). Do yourself a favor and get to this show early enough to see them. GRANT BRISSEY