THURSDAY 9/20
THE FLAMING LIPS, BLACK MOTH SUPER RAINBOW
(Paramount) See music section.
DECIBEL FESTIVAL: DIPLO, SWITCH, SIMIAN MOBILE DISCO UNIT,
DJ FOURCOLORZACK, PRETTY TITTY
(Neumo’s) See Suggests and Bug in the Bassbin.
PETER BJORN AND JOHN, THE CLIENTELE, MARISSA
NADLER
(Showbox at the Market) What is it about Sweden? The socialized
health care? Liberal funding for the arts? Good genes? Constitutional
monarchy? Herring? Whatever it is, the country seems preternaturally
gifted at churning out ace pop music, from ABBA to the Knife to the
(International) Noise Conspiracy. Peter Bjorn and John are no
exception. The eponymous trio’s most recent album, Writer’s
Block, continues to burn itself into my brain and dominate my MP3
rotation a full year after its international release (and six months
after its official stateside debut). Every song is gorgeous and
catchy—the anthemic graffiti of “Objects of My Affection,” the
whistling romance of “Young Folks,” the stoned drag of “Amsterdam,” the
cagey dance of “Up Against the Wall,” the cool kiss-off “Let’s Call It
Off”—and the band is pitch-perfect and fun live. ERIC GRANDY
LOW, SIR RICHARD BISHOP
(The Triple Door) For me, Low have always been about the slow, gray
days of late autumn, when rain-slick leaves stick to your windows and
the heavy sun barely climbs past the horizon. That’s when the rich,
complicated harmonies of Alan Sparhawk and his wife Mimi Parker
(two-thirds of the Duluth band, with Matt Livingston on bass) strike
just the right balance between hope and despair. The veteran band
produce complex, textured soundtracks perfect for chilly afternoons
when the streetlamps flicker on at four o’clock. The literate, precise
vocals of Sparhawk and Parker dance like rain in the feeble light. For
those sick of summer, this is your show. CHRIS McCANN
FRIDAY 9/21
DECIBEL FESTIVAL
(Various venues) See Suggests and Bug in the Bassbin.
IMPERIAL TEEN, BELLA, DERBY
(Crocodile) Truly deep friendships can endure extended periods with
little or no interaction; with best buddies, a half-decade apart seems
like just a few days once you click back into sync. So it is with
indie-pop rockers Imperial Teen. Five years have elapsed since the
California quartet’s last album, an interim filled with outside
obligations—parenting, side projects, etc.—as the title of
their latest, The Hair the TV the Baby & the Band, hints.
But now they’re reunited, and it feels… hell, great. “Sweet Potato”
shimmies and shakes like a sock hop where the milkshakes are spiked
with bennies, while “Room with a View” sounds wise and wistful, with
the merest hint of silver at the temples. Welcome back. KURT
REIGHLEY
NO AGE, SEX VID, TALBOT TAGORA, FLEXIONS
(Vera) Los Angeles duo No Age consist of two thirds of the
excellent, deceased avant-punk band Wives. While No Age are far less
aggressively mind-tickling than the more spastic Wives, their music is
also more winningly free-roaming. Their recent debut on Fatcat,
Weirdo Rippers, is, appropriately given its origin (the record
is a compilation of various small vinyl releases), pleasantly all over
the place. It veers from watery expanses of guitar murk to post-Ramones
jolts of pop upheaval to dusty, soul-bleached instrumentals.
Undoubtedly, their next record (conscripted for local zeitgeist lovers
Sub Pop) will be of a more thought-threaded focus, but even in the
action art messiness of Weirdo Rippers No Age manage many
moments of unusual beauty. SAM MICKENS
SATURDAY 9/22
DECIBEL FESTIVAL
(Various venues) See Suggests and Bug in the Bassbin.
JOHN IN THE MORNING AT NIGHT: MAPS, JAMIE T., VAMPIRE
WEEKEND, DAS LLAMAS, JOY WANTS ETERNITY
(Crocodile) The cult of John Richards is sure to show up en masse to
this late edition of his morning show simply to bask in his indie
glory, but the bill more than stands on its own. Maps’ We Can
Create builds on the buzz from the trio of EPs the band released
last year, combining the woozy atmospherics of My Bloody Valentine with
the analog delicacy of Four Tet, and creating a new electro-indie-pop
reference point. Vampire Weekend’s hyperliterate pop draws from both
indie classics and Afropop, making the perfect soundtrack for a day of
Ultimate in the park. Joy Wants Eternity follow in the vein of
post-rock posterboys Explosions in the Sky, skipping the overly long
buildups in favor of getting right to rocking out with their collection
of guitar pedals. DONTE PARKS
THE SATURDAY KNIGHTS, THEE EMERGENCY, SLENDER MEANS, SPEAKER SPEAKER THE HANDS, SHIPS, YOUNG SPORTSMEN, TRAUMAHAWK, WHITE TRASH
WHIPLASH, THE LONELY H, SKULLBOT, KATHARINE HEPBURN’S VOICE, PATIENCE PLEASE
(Fremont Oktoberfest) See Stranger Suggests.
THESE ARMS ARE SNAKES, AKIMBO, KANE HODDER, MIKAELA’S
FIEND
(Old Fire House) Redmond’s Old Fire House Teen Center is turning 15
this month, and tonight’s show is the culmination of a monthlong
celebration for the pioneering all-ages venue. Appropriately, tonight’s
bill is stacked with bands that cut their teeth at the OFH over the
years—metal monsters Akimbo, aerobic thrashers Kane Hodder, and
neon noisesters Mikaela’s Fiend (for whom tonight will be their final
show). Then there are “secret headliners,” These Arms Are Snakes, whose
roots go way deep into the old Eastside hardcore scene. These days, the
OFH may not be the lonely outpost for all-ages punk that it once was
(post-TDO, the Seattle area is fortunate enough to have several
all-ages-capable venues), but it’s still a vital place that provides
much needed recreation and services for area youth. Tonight’s concert
should make for a pretty kick-ass birthday party. Happy 15th, OFH! ERIC
GRANDY
ENDFEST 16: SMASHING PUMPKINS, SOCIAL DISTORTION, BRIGHT
EYES, SATELLITE PARTY, THE USED, HOT HOT HEAT, SHINY TOY GUNS,
STRAYLIGHT RUN, PARAMORE, AGAINST ME!, MINUS THE BEAR, KAY KAY AND HIS
WEATHERED UNDERGROUND, MONETA
(Qwest Field) Endfest this year has set itself up to be a day in
which hormonally charged, mood-swinging teenagers can experience every
conceivable emotion in one convenient location. If you go, here’s your
feelings schedule: Start out with stoned (Minus the Bear) and then
check out cheerful (Kay Kay and His Weathered Underground). After your
funnel cake, you might want to try parent-appropriate sincerity
(Straylight Run) or robot sadness (Shiny Toy Guns). Next, move on to
anger (Social Distortion), after which you may or may not want to check
out worthlessness (Satellite Party). Top it all off with grief (Bright
Eyes) and a little misappropriated arrogance (Smashing Pumpkins). All
in all, it’s a hell of a day. ARI SPOOL
SUNDAY 9/23
DECIBEL FESTIVAL
(Various venues) See Suggests and Bug in the Bassbin.
MONDAY 9/24
ARCADE FIRE, LCD SOUNDSYSTEM
(Bank of America Arena) See Stranger Suggests.
CIRCLE, GRAILS, ASSEMBLE HEAD IN SUNBURST SOUND
(Chop Suey) The only reason to listen to metal is because it’s
hilarious. The more brutal and serious it pretends to be—from its
hard-line assaults of head nodding to its 8-year-old-under-a-blanket
scary voices—the bigger the punch line. But Finland’s Circle are
one of those fancy-pants metal bands who name-drop Krautrock and cram
as many sounds as possible into every song. They’re academic, allegedly
experimental, but somehow still most effective when they’re making a
racket, hypermasculine guitars destroying their own attempts to relax
the boundaries of the genre. All of which proves, clearly, that they
come just in time for the return of Adult Swim’s Metalocalypse.
DEAN FAWKES
TUESDAY 9/25
THE MAGNIFICENTS: RAHZEL, MC SUPERNATURAL, DJ
JS-1
(Chop Suey) See My Philosophy.
THE CAVE SINGERS ALBUM-RELEASE PARTY
(Easy Street Records, Queen Anne) The cover of the Cave Singers’
brand-new debut, Invitation Songs, is a haunting visual
translation of their music: The three band members in a group embrace
half-submerged in a grassy, minty-green meadow, backed by a pine-green
sentinel of dark, silent forest. It’s beautiful, ominous, like the band
is taking comfort in each other before the arrival of an impending
tragedy or sharing a final sentiment before permanently parting. The
music within swells with similar mystery, sweetly pastoral but
battered, bluesy, and raw. Performed onstage for months, these songs
make the transition to record with added resonance. Simply put,
Invitation Songs is stunning, a surprising debut and one of the
best albums of the year. JONATHAN ZWICKEL
WEDNESDAY 9/26
BONDE DO ROLE, JUICEBOXXX, NATALIE PORTMAN’S SHAVED HEAD
(Neumo’s) I’m of the minority opinion that Bonde Do Role aren’t
really that great. Sure, they sample “Man in the Box” and “The Final
Countdown,” and that’s cute. They rap in Portuguese, which means they
could be dropping really brilliant, filthy rhymes for all I know. They
crowd surf and break their arms and goof around in all the right ways.
They’re fun live, but their funk carioca (Brazil’s answer to Miami
bass, ghettotech, Baltimore club, and ’80s electro/freestyle) inspired
party jams feel insubstantial even by the forgiving standards of the
party jam. Milwaukee MC/producer Juiceboxxx brings nerdy bedroom
electronics, punk sass, and ’90s nostalgia to his equally light
dance-floor filler, but there’s something endearing about his
transparent, geeky glee. Call it the Girl Talk factor. ERIC GRANDY
DEF LEPPARD, STYX, FOREIGNER
(White River Amphitheatre) The only thing that could make this show
better is if it were on ice. That’s right, Def Leppard on ice, doing
all the classics. “Photograph,” “Foolin’,” “Rock of Ages” with axel
jumps. After 65 million albums sold, what else can you do? Then there’s
Foreigner’s “Cold as Ice.” See? Ice. For the finale, Brian Boitano in a
Kermit the Frog suit skates out and does a triple lutz over Miss
Piggy’s head. He sticks it and sings Styx’s 1979 number-one hit,
“Babe.” Kermie and Piggy glide in tandem, and he croons, “But I’ll be
lonely without you, and I’ll need your love to see me through.” TRENT
MOORMAN
BEAT THE DEVIL, A GUN THAT SHOOTS KNIVES, 1-2-1-2
(Sunset) This week, two promising New York City bands play Seattle,
and they couldn’t be more different. On the sugary-sweet end of the
scale, are Vampire Weekend, once described by a friend as a “drunker
Paul Simon,” doing a fleet-footed, big-hearted indie-rock approximation
of Afrobeat-pop. Over on the razor-wire-sharp end are Beat the Devil,
who sound like the burgundy lipstick smeared across the face of a
crossdressing carnival barker slugging absinthe at the Moulin Rouge.
Singer Shilpa Ray’s voice is a lover’s slap in the face, passionate and
pissed off, but more concerned with pulling you in than pushing you
back. The band’s sparse, reverbed rhythm section gets a hummy glaze
from her harmonium and theremin; it all comes together like a torrid,
punkish romance. JONATHAN ZWICKEL