Wednesday 5/11

Of Montreal, Painted Palms, Beat Connection

(Showbox at the Market) The success of many Seattle concerts hinges on bring-a-book audiences who must be vigorously wooed before they'll consent to dance. Of Montreal know how to cajole these stoic crowds into having fun. Every show feels fresh—they have produced three albums and three EPs in the last three years—and their stage presence, dominated by frenetic frontman Kevin Barnes, is as flamboyant and joyful as their music. Their performances come off as well-choreographed theater, bubblegum operas with psychedelic overtones. You can't help feeding off their enthusiasm and danceability. CIENNA MADRID

Curren$y, Trademark da Skydiver, Young Roddy, Nesby Phips, Monstabeatz, Smoke DZA

(Neumos) As easy as I find it to write off the majority of blog-weight rappers from the last three or four years (if you can name even one member of, say, Pac Div, you have too much time on your hands), I can't help loving the output of one Shante Franklin, aka Curren$y. Formerly known by his suffix Tha Hot Spitta (or just Spitta, if ya nasty), Curren$y has surfed the crest of some of Southern rap's most powerful movements, as a onetime signee of both No Limit and Cash Money Records; his evolution into the unfazeable rap Lebowski of today, however, is the most remarkable. Dedicated to high-grade weed, fine women, and vintage muscle cars, Spitta's lifestyle tunes ooze a rare Devin the Dude–esque cool, while his wordplay and flow are damn near peerless. Jets... fool. LARRY MIZELL JR.

Crystal Stilts, Case Studies, Posse

(Crocodile) Brooklyn's Crystal Stilts started out worshiping at the Jesus and Mary Chain's altar of studied cool. Their heavy-lidded, morose-voiced, black-denimed rock—as heard on the Alight of Night collection—evoked the Reid brothers' sooty, reverberant wall of sound, but with only a fraction of the noise of their Scottish elders. But that's okay; Crystal Stilts have mastered that rare ability to write melodies that make nonchalance sound poignant. Their new album on Slumberland, In Love with Oblivion, finds them still peddling a lean, louche brand of rock, but with less indebtedness to the Mary Chain template. Understatement and Brad Hargett's foghorn vocals still reign, but Crystal Stilts have brightened the mood and tonal palette; the guitars even jangle occasionally. This sort of oblivion suits them well. DAVE SEGAL

Thursday 5/12

Mock & Toof

(Fred Wildlife Refuge) See Data Breaker.

Jackie Chain, Dyme Def, BAYB, Century, DJ Swervewon

(Nectar) Macklemore has replaced Blue Scholars as Seattle's biggest hiphop act. Blue Scholars now stand in second position, Shabazz Palaces in third. What about Dyme Def? The trio (Brainstorm, S.E.V., Fearce Villan) has been together since 2006, worked extensively with BeanOne, and released two albums (the first, Space Music, is a local classic)—and they recently had the video for "Timeless" featured on MTV's website. Dyme Def's most recent album, Sex Tape, leaned toward the pop end of hiphop but did not catch heat on a national level—though on June 6, 2010, Sex Tape was the fourth most downloaded album on a popular torrent site. I think that if Dyme Def want to make it big, they need to produce a pop tune that clicks specifically with black America. I doubt that Seattle's white audience will break this talented crew. CHARLES MUDEDE

Jackie Hell, Watch It Sparkle, Moira Scarr, Lady Krishna's Peppermint Lounge, Gerald Stokes

(Comet) You really can't go wrong with any night hosted by Seattle's clexy-est (clexy = classy and sexy) corn-dog-peddling queen of sleaze, Jackie Hell. She is the hostess with the mostest. Other ladies can't even touch her talent when it comes to singing (songs about drunken killing sprees), dancing (in sequined dresses about seven sizes too small), or cooking (with mayonnaise, always with mayonnaise). Young Seattle women could learn a lot from seeing this 102-year-old mother of 13 perform, even once. Tonight, Jackie's paired with Watch It Sparkle—a local trash-rock band I'm dying to finally see, 'cause rumor has it they make messy-fun punk and have toured with bands like Hunx & His Punx, Ty Segall, Pierced Arrows, and Shannon & the Clams. This is gonna be real good. Don't forget the mustard and mayo. KELLY O

Master Musicians of Bukkake, Wolvserpent, A Story of Rats, This Blinding Light

(El Corazón) Idaho's Wolvserpent play a cantankerous brand of goth metal and noisy ambient that does nothing to alleviate my deep-seated fear of Idaho. A Story of Rats (Garek Druss and various compatriots) just released Thought Forms on Adam Svenson's new Eiderdown Records, a label devoted to championing "the finest and weirdest late-night sounds." (Such a worthy endeavor.) ASOR's nocturnal drones steadily accrue a gripping creepiness over their epic durations and make you wonder what torments Druss has been experiencing. This Blinding Light are the most conventional rock band on the bill, but they execute that fuzzed-to-Hades, mantric rock ritual with righteous intensity. Master Musicians of Bukkake, as you should know, rank as one of Seattle's foremost purveyors of third-eye-opening ethnodelia. DAVE SEGAL See also Stranger Suggests.

The Portland Cello Project

(Crocodile) If you do not already love the cello, it is only because you do not know it, because the cello is easily the most love-inspiring instrument ever built. Its sound is so warm, you'll swear it came from inside your body. The Portland Cello Project is an all-cello orchestra—joined by full brass and woodwind sections—that plays everything, and not in stuffy concert-hall settings, but in places like punk clubs and ballparks and, here, the Crocodile. They collaborate with metal bands and cover Kanye songs (see YouTube for "All of the Lights"). They also spread the love to jazz and classical, of course. But their gospel is the cello. The cello is the word and the light, and it is good. JEN GRAVES

Friday 5/13

Wolf + Lamb vs. Soul Clap

(Chop Suey) See Data Breaker.

Matt Carlson, RM Francis

(Chapel Performance Space) See Underage.

Captain Ahab, Footwork, Stickers

(Cairo) See Underage.

The Melvins

(Crocodile) Tonight, the Melvins unleash three of the most crucial recordings of their 25-year catalog in their entirety. They start things off with Eggnog, an early exercise in gloriously sloppy, barely coherent, feedback-plagued noise rock. Then they drop it down to the utmost extremes of their dextrometh-orphan dirge with Lysol, where two chords drag out over the course of the first half of the album and spew into Flipper and Alice Cooper homages on the latter half. Finishing off the night is Houdini, the band's major-label debut. With 45 minutes of ugly riffage capped off by a 10-minute drum solo, it's still the most accessible thing the Melvins ever recorded. Be there. BRIAN COOK See also interview.

System of a Down, Gogol Bordello

(KeyArena) After a four-year hiatus, Grammy-winning prog metalheads System of a Down reunite for a because-we-want-to reunion tour. Lucky beneficiaries of System of a Down's decision: opening act Gogol Bordello, the gypsy-punk outfit that's been playing stadium-sized shows to nightclub audiences for years, and tonight gets the chance to burn down KeyArena. Also lucky: those System of a Down fans who show up early enough to watch one of the greatest live bands on the planet. Already forgiven: those prog metalheads who'll respond to Gogol Bordello's gypsy punk by wondering what Weird Al's so pissed about. DAVID SCHMADER

The Fucking Eagles, Virgin Islands, Hounds of the Wild Hunt, Sugar Sugar Sugar

(Columbia City Theater) The defunct local rock band the Cops never really stuck with me, despite the fact that everything they had going for them was basically a list of shit I love about music (for starters, Spin .com described their drumming as "abusive" and they recorded their records with Kurt Bloch—I like both of those things!). But I fully back Cops frontman Mike Jaworski's new band, Virgin Islands, which released its debut full-length, Ernie Chambers v. God, on May 10. Every song is a storm of fuzzy guitars; heavy, garage-rock-inspired bass lines; and Jaworski's familiar bratty vocals. I won't make the same mistake with Virgin Islands as I did with the Cops—they've got my full attention. MEGAN SELING

The Raveonettes, Tamaryn

(Neumos) Danish rock duo the Raveonettes have earned modest success by essentially finding a winning formula (palatable pop-informed rock that suggests an affinity for the Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine) and executing it—with slight variation—over 10 albums and EPs. For their latest, Raven in the Grave, Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo took production into their own hands, and the result is simultaneously pleasant and melancholic, with moments of shimmering beauty. For instance, the ice-shard guitars on "War in Heaven" are downright gorgeous. GRANT BRISSEY

Simple Monsters, How How Medical, Auspex, Everybody Panic

(Ground Zero) Young Seattle trio Simple Monsters have only two songs available (both of which you can hear for free at www.simplemonsters .bandcamp.com), but each one is very different, revealing musicians who have only just begun to sort out which direction they want to go. The song "Evolution" is a little more aggressive than usual, experimenting with some Radiohead and Smashing Pumpkins influences—there's an inexplicable robot-voiced sample and some big Billy Corgan–esque guitar riffs. And "While" is more laid-back—maybe akin to Modest Mouse and Pavement (and I swear there's a Weezer-like guitar line in there somewhere). Simple Monsters are far from flawless, but they're every band I loved when I was a teenager, mashed together by a new generation of teenagers. Godspeed, gentlemen. MEGAN SELING

Saturday 5/14

The Melvins

(Crocodile) See Friday, and interview.

The David Liebe Hart Band, Country Lips, Friends & Family, Fever Teeth

(Healthy Times Fun Club) See Underage.

Starkey, Mux Mool, PotatoFinger, Suttikeeree

(Chop Suey) See Data Breaker.

Daughters of the Sun, Ayahuasca Travelers, This Blinding Light, Magnog

(Josephine) Minneapolis trio Daughters of the Sun create psych rock shot through with a heat-haze ethereality, although sometimes the drummer initiates a Savage Republic–like tribal drift to bring some earthiness to things. They're yet another group that's making Los Angeles' Not Not Fun label one of the key promulgators of outward-bound sounds for altered states. Check Daughters of the Sun's Ghost with Chains for proof of their propensity for hypnotic dronecraft. The locals on this bill should set the scene with their own brand of levitational and deliquescent psych rock. DAVE SEGAL

Trap Them, Great Falls, Cascabel, Devotion, He Whose Ox Is Gored

(El Corazón) Is this hardcore or metal? Maybe punk? After one listen to Trap Them's newest full-length, Darker Handcraft—their first on major US metal label Prosthetic—it's obvious these dudes take pride in being a genre-defying beast, lifting the urgency of punk and hardcore and applying it to their razor-sharp metal precision. Much like local shredders Black Breath, Trap Them reach back to the Left Hand Path and fill our ear holes with the classic Swedish death-metal buzz-saw guitar tone, only this time it's placed alongside the crust-caked D-beat fury of brand-new drummer Chris Maggio. Show up early for a mix of awesomely heavy local music: He Whose Ox Is Gored bring chaotic, keyboard-driven post-metal; Cascabel shred Cave In–style math-metalcore; and Great Falls keep it heavy. A rager indeed. KEVIN DIERS

Sunday 5/15

LAKE, Ages and Ages, Cataldo

(Tractor) LAKE make meandering pop full of tasteful horns (see "Stumble Around," off Giving & Receiving), warm Rhodes twiddling (pretty much all the time), and dreamy lyricism complete with backup oohs and aahs ("The Stars"). The parts—not the sum—at times recall a less polished, lounging peer to Belle & Sebastian. GRANT BRISSEY

Monday 5/16

The Greenhornes, JEFF the Brotherhood, Stereo Sons

(Crocodile) It's no surprise that super-fun rock duo JEFF the Brotherhood just signed a distribution deal with Warner Bros. Despite working within some rather confined parameters—singer/guitarist Jake Orrall reportedly plays with only three strings on his guitar, and drummer/brother Jamin Orrall plays a stripped three-piece kit—the two manufacture catchy-as-hell, hook-laden songs and make it look easy. We Are the Champions, due out June 21 on Infinity Cat, finds them branching out a bit compositionally from 2009's excellent Heavy Days without losing an iota of appeal. The WB deal affords the brothers creative control, the chance to remain on their original label, and distribution through Alternative Distribution Alliance. Well played, sirs. GRANT BRISSEY See also Granted.

Man Man, Shilpa Ray and Her Happy Hookers

(Neumos) Philadelphia's Man Man have become gradually more refined over the last eight years or so, but their early shows were riotous affairs involving much instrument swapping, white tennis outfits, acrobatic percussion feats, and intricate, goofy vocal interplay. It was kind of like watching a band of Tom Waitses trying their hands at no wave and klezmer music while lit on rum. Man Man's new album, Life Fantastic, somewhat reins in the weirdness and manic energy, though you can still hear residual quirks in their boisterous pop songs—as well as an occasional reliance on sentimentality in the melodies. Still, expect dazzlement onstage. New York's Shilpa Ray and Her Happy Hookers rock hard, tunefully, and noisily, sometimes coloring outside of the lines to unpredictable, psychedelic effect. DAVE SEGAL

Tuesday 5/17

Nü Sensae, Naomi Punk, White Lung

(Healthy Times Fun Club) Part of Vancouver, BC's fertile DIY scene, Nü Sensae make postapocalyptic drum-and-bass punk that's as deep as it is decibel-rich. There's a terrific irony to Andrea Luki and Daniel Pitout's use of parentheses in the song titles on their 2010 full-length TV, Death and the Devil. Rather than favor bloviating, post-rock long-windedness, the duo opts for one-word names cupped in parentheses such as "(Hardholio)" and "(Terribolt)," that scan like whispered obiter dicta, but when listened to—even at discreet volumes—are obviously more like deep-bellied, blood-curdling howls. Apparently, asides can be totally up in your fucking face. They play tonight with White Lung, some of their favored tourmates from back home, and Seattle's resident grunge revisionists Naomi Punk. JASON BAXTER