Wednesday 10/5

Girls, Sonny & the Sunsets, Papa

(Neptune) See Stranger Suggests.

Neon Indian, Com Truise, Purity Ring

(Crocodile) I still have some affection for the tender, slightly E'd-up beach pop of Neon Indian's 2009 album, Psychic Chasms. It's a bubbly pleasure that will likely stand as a chillwave signpost. But Neon Indian's new full-length, Era Extraña, is a slicker, more dance-pop-oriented follow-up whose sugariness seems geared for the lucrative tween demographic. Better sounds come from Ghostly International artist Com Truise. Overlook the wack pseudonym and dig the dude's downtempo laptop funk. His attractive watercolor melodies sparkle over head- nodding beats. Lots of home-studio-bound geeks tap into this vein, but Com Truise does it with more skill than most. DAVE SEGAL

Deaf Wish, So Pitted, the Shatter Dolls, King Dro

(Funhouse) Australian musician Max Kohane once compared the Melbourne group Deaf Wish to legends like the Wipers and Hüsker Dü. I've only experienced Deaf Wish's latest album, 2010's Mercy, but I'm hearing more of the former's speedy, linear clangor than the latter's gift for soaring melodies couched in symphonic, buzz-saw guitar heroics. Whatever the case, these are excellent reference points for a rock band, and Deaf Wish's occasional forays into more subdued songcraft prove they can get poignant without ladling on the high-fructose corn syrup. DAVE SEGAL

Thursday 10/6

Erasure, Frankmusik

(Moore) Move over, Bon Iver's For Emma, Forever Ago—there's a hot new record that was recorded in a remote cabin. Hilariously, this record is by Erasure, the British synth-pop duo who sound like they produce their music on a big gay cloud, but whose new release, Tomorrow's World, was put together in Vince Clarke's cabin studio in Maine. Tonight the Moore hosts the final stop of Erasure's 27-date Tomorrow's World tour. Opening the show: the electro-pop musician Frankmusik, who produced Erasure's latest. DAVID SCHMADER See also Homosexual Agenda.

Washed Out

(Neptune) The shitty thing about genre names is once you get into them, you start shortchanging the actual music. What is chillwave? Just like the word "hipster," it means something different to just about everyone. What the hell does indie rock even mean anymore? I challenge you to define it right now without googling someone else's definition. Call this chillwave, seashell pop, beachgaze, or whatever you want. I'm just gonna call Washed Out's Within and Without gorgeous. GRANT BRISSEY See also Underage.

Reporter, Ononos, Boyz IV Men

(Comet) The Ononos—NoNo Ono, Yes, and Why—are a hard-to-define combination of music and performance art who are perhaps comparable to a young Genesis P-Orridge meeting early Misfits. NoNo, Yes, and Why dress in black and white, and are faceless—playing their throbbing electro-rock while hiding in plain sight, usually in front of their synapse-challenging video art, which often includes strange images of Darby Crash. The whole experience feels like something you'd see at MoMA in New York. Instead, you get to see it in a dirty punk bar in Seattle. I thought the last Ononos show at the Comet would get heckled, or worse. Instead, the dirty punk bar embraced its strange infiltrator, and everybody got sweaty and inspired. KELLY O See also Homosexual Agenda.

Friday 10/7

Bass Monster Tour: Reid Speed, Cyberoptics, FS, Sonny Chiba

(King Cat) See Data Breaker.

Miguel Migs, Julius Papp, Blue-Eyed Soul

(Neumos) See Data Breaker.

Seapony, Orca Team, Great Spiders

(Cairo) See Underage.

Wild Beasts, EMA, Perfume Genius

(Neptune) I'm not a soundscapes kind of guy; I like my songs short, catchy, and unpretentious. But EMA is causing me to rethink that aversion. Consider "The Grey Ship" and especially "California." These songs remind me of ELO in a way—they're meandering, synthesizer-based songs that follow a narrative more than a melody, and they stretch waaaaaay past the three-minute mark—but they remind me of ELO in a way that doesn't make me want to shoot myself in the face. The saving grace here comes with EMA's impassioned, urgent voice. Over the music, her vocals come across like chanting, imbuing the lurching beats with so much feeling that they come alive. It's a perfect interplay between human voice and digital soundscapes. PAUL CONSTANT

Jacuzzi Boys, TV Ghost, Love Tan, the Apollos

(Funhouse) Tonight, in the most aptly named venue in the city, we have one of the strongest lineups of punk/noise greatness/weirdness of the season. It's damn hot in Florida, and headliners Jacuzzi Boys' latest, Glazin', out now on Seattle's Hardly Art Records, is chock-full of sun-baked, humidity-soaked jams with lyrics like "If I make you feel brighter/I can write your name in the sand." TV Ghost's Birthday Party–esque post-punk combines menacing, infectious bass lines with tension-filled guitar dynamics. Love Tan deftly traverse all your favorite punk and rock subgenres and turn up the weird dial. GRANT BRISSEY

Japanther, the Pharmacy, Night Beats, Unstoppable Death Machines

(Black Lodge) Japanther are an absolute blast live. Ian Vanek and Matt Reilly deftly manufacture danceable, sing-along anthems with just their voices, straight drums, tape loops, a Casio SK-1, and a supremely fuzzed-out bass. I haven't heard their latest, Beets, Limes, and Rice, because, even though they're just as likely to play a bathroom (happened once in Bellingham) or Black Lodge, Japanther don't need to send out promo crap—they've already got the attention of rags like Vice, the New York Times, New York, etc. But I'm willing to bet that it doesn't stray from their very successful take on good times. Go and have a dance and sing-along and then buy a copy of 2003's Leather Wings, which is as good a place to start as any of their other 700 or so CD-R releases, 7-inches, EPs, and full-lengths. GRANT BRISSEY

Fountains of Wayne, Mike Viola

(Crocodile) In some ways, Fountains of Wayne are the Black Eyed Peas of alterna-pop: so gifted and shameless at gathering catchy sounds, they can hardly be trusted (even while you're loving the jam). Helping Fountains of Wayne clear the Will.i.am hurdle: the literate lyrics packed with the type of wit, concision, and dramatic perspective that will always be considered Randy Newman–esque. DAVID SCHMADER

Saturday 10/8

Yelawolf, Rittz, DJ Craze

(Neumos) See Stranger Suggests and My Philosophy.

Seattle Rock Orchestra Performs Stevie Wonder

(Moore) If you don't like Stevie Wonder's '60s and '70s output, you have serious character and aesthetic flaws. During those halcyon days, his soulfulness, melodic sophistication, and rhythmic verve were nearly unparalleled among Motown's roster. Listening to Stevie's music from that era is like mainlining euphoria. Seattle Rock Orchestra—including Darrius Willrich and Allen Stone—will focus on Wonder's prime years, performing youthfully exuberant hits like "Uptight (Everything's Alright)" and "I Was Made to Love Her" and selections from grown-ass-man classics like Talking Book, Innervisions, and Songs in the Key of Life. DAVE SEGAL

Zola Jesus, Xanopticon

(Crocodile) It seems wildly appropriate that Zola Jesus recently premiered her new album, Conatus, with a free download called "Vessel," because the classically trained singer, born Nika Roza Danilova, doesn't so much "make" music as channel it from some otherworldly dimension. On record, her sound marries the majesty of Siouxsie Sioux at her most regal with the gut-punching gravity of Swans, augmented by strings, timpani, and unsettling electronics. Zola Jesus is obviously aware of her goth and avant-garde predecessors, yet her art circumnavigates nostalgia, striving instead toward an unknown future. She's especially powerful onstage, where her operatic chops allow her to not only create but to sustain a level of physical intensity mere pop singers rarely achieve. KURT B. REIGHLEY

No-Fi Soul Rebellion, Jupe Jupe, Secret Shoppers, the Midget

(Comet) For 10 years now, the relentless Bellingham husband-and-wife dance duo No-Fi Soul Rebellion has been bringing drum-machine party jamz. They've been doing the same thing since Friendster was cool. Some bands wouldn't get away with such nonsense (learn a new trick, you pony!) but there's something comforting about No-Fi Soul Rebellion's shtick, and their songs—both new and old—are good enough to make them worth revisiting over and over again. MEGAN SELING

Agalloch, Atriarch, Sedan

(El Corazón) For 16 years, Portland's Agalloch have been escaping easy categorization, prancing between what might be considered "post-rock," "folk-metal," and "black metal," adding rich melodies to an otherwise grim and cold genre. With their first three full-lengths, the band reached a cultlike status among their followers, maintaining an air of mystery and darkness by releasing limited amounts of merchandise and keeping their pale faces out of the spotlight. Agalloch's most recent album, 2010's Marrow of the Spirit, sees the band creating their most viciously "metal" songs yet, adding the blast beats of Ludicra drummer Aesop Dekker, an addition that complements the soaring guitar work of John Haughm. Don't expect to see any spike-covered, corpse-painted frontmen sacrificing goats here, just some normal dudes stunning you with their deep harmonies, shrill shrieks, and driving riffs. KEVIN DIERS

Sunday 10/9

Dum Dum Girls, the Crocodiles, Colleen Green

(Neumos) See album review.

Greg Brown, Jason Wilber

(Triple Door) What do you need to be a folk singer other than a voice like this—a ridiculously deep, rich, cat-tongue-rough baritone? It would matter little what Greg Brown sang with it; anything would sound dreamy. He uses it to sing William Blake poems and his own sweet-and-salty folk gems, which have been covered by the likes of Joan Baez and Willie Nelson. He was born in Hacklebarney and used to run hootenannies. He wears floppy hats and overalls and smiles all the time. Iris DeMent is his wife and Pieta Brown is his daughter (both are lovely and incredible singers). Let the sepia-toned, old-school Iowan charm your ears. ANNA MINARD

Cults

(Easy Street Records, Queen Anne) The recent trend in all things occult has been confusing. On one hand, you have a slew of bands harping the early Beggars Banquet sound: dark, disfigured, and depressing. Then you have bands like Cults, who could be superficially perceived as some paganish witch-house band, but sound decidedly more like God-worshipping Kool-Aid drinkers. In fact, the video for the Brooklyn band's ebullient single "Go Outside" superimposes the band (à la Weezer's "Buddy Holly") on vintage Jonestown film footage, cavorting at the People's Temple. It's all hands in the air, eyes closed, in full worship mode as the song's bright harmonies and twinkling keys glimmer under the subtropical sky. The Polyphonic Spree may have been first with the robes and joyous pop tunes, but Cults are well on their way to converting many followers. Drink the Kool-Aid, damn it. TRAVIS RITTER

Monday 10/10

Chromeo, Mayer Hawthorne & the County, Sammy Bananas

(Showbox Sodo) Nostalgia ain't going nowhere—might as well have skilled artisans reviving shit, right? And that's what this bill offers: two of the top pasticheurs in North America. Montreal duo Chromeo sleaze up electro and disco with utmost skill and oleaginousness. Mayer Hawthorne & the County flash back in style to the intricately arranged and heartfelt '60s soul that Motown Records mass-produced to world-changing effect. That Hawthorne's a nerdy-looking Caucasian adds a crucial WTFness to his superior craftsmanship and Curtis/Smokey-esque vocals. DAVE SEGAL

Thomas Dolby

(Triple Door) Thomas Dolby's "Hyperactive!" is the anthem for those suffering from attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Released in 1984 (the last great year for American electro funk), "Hyperactive!"—Dolby's second most famous tune after "She Blinded Me with Science," which was released in 1982 (the last great year for Euro synth pop)—is about a boy who can't keep his mind on one thing. His thoughts are frantic; his head is about to explode. Worse, he grows up with this disorder: "Hyperactive when I'm small/Hyperactive now I'm grown/Hyperactive and the night is young (and in a minute I'll blow)." In the video for the tune, Dolby has a psychiatrist treat the disorder. These days, we would just give him a pill or a Game Boy. Tonight, Dolby revisits his early songs, delivers a lecture, and plays tracks from his new album, A Map of the Floating City. CHARLES MUDEDE

Tuesday 10/11

Noddy, Metronomy, New Villager

(Neumos) See Homosexual Agenda.

Drum & Bass Tuesdays: Loxy, the Bassinvaders, Jason Curtis vs. Stylus, Lunchmoney

(Baltic Room) See Data Breaker.

Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks, Ty Segall

(Neptune) Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks' fifth post-Pavement album, Mirror Traffic, is making people remark that it's his most Pavement-like effort outside of Pavement. That's cool, but I kind of liked when Malkmus and company sprawled prog-rockily on Pig Lib and Real Emotional Trash. Let the man ramble! He's earned it! But most people dislike convoluted, proggy epics, so on Mirror Traffic Malkmus has reined in those tendencies, tapped Beck to produce, and tightened his songwriting so y'all can more easily sing along. Malkmus is still a master of elliptical, cryptic lyrics and his well of slanted, enchanted melodies is clearly in no danger of drying up. DAVE SEGAL

Enslaved, Alcest, Junius, Christian Mistress

(El Corazón) Black metal was born, in part, as a reaction to the rival variants of extreme heavy music. Acting in opposition to death metal's technical precision and studio gloss, the most crucial black metal bands made borderline unlistenable albums of rudimentary dissonant chord progressions and no-fi production. Artists who tried to refine their sound typically turned into sad parodies of themselves (see Cradle of Filth). But early Norwegian black-metal act Enslaved are an exception, with later albums moving into more polished and progressive territories without tempering their foreboding air of misery and malice. French band Alcest similarly manage to push the boundaries of black metal by using buzz-saw guitars and murky ambience to create grace instead of gloom. BRIAN COOK

Cymbals Eat Guitars, Hooray for Earth

(Crocodile) You have to give New York's Cymbals Eat Guitars credit when they sign to local label Barsuk, but the move makes sense, as this sort of meandering but loudish rock fits well with labelmates like the Globes and Blunt Mechanic. CEG—or, more specifically, their second full-length, Lenses Alien—are at their best when it gets heavy, such as the more tension-filled moments of "Rifle Eyesight (Proper Name)." Unfortunately, this doesn't happen nearly as often as it should. GRANT BRISSEY