THURSDAY 10/18
Interpol, Liars
(WaMu Theater) Liars’ new self-titled album finds the band balancing
their obtuse, bad-trip drones with muscular, full-frontal rock. Whether
freaking out on a single, sampled noise loop or thrashing through
fuel-intensive prog punk, Liars are an electrifying live band.
Vocalist/guitarist Angus Andrew hulks around the stage like a monster
while Aaron Hemphill hangs then shreds sonic scenery and Julian Gross
beats the shit out of his poor drum kit. It’s terrifying. Interpol, on
the other hand, are one of the most boring live bands on the planet,
even when they don’t have such a tough act to follow. ERIC GRANDY
Tullycraft, Math and Physics Club, Patience Please
(Crocodile) If you’re not ashamed to have a soft spot for Berkley’s
witty pop punkers the Mr. T Experience, the Mates of State at their
most ridiculously adorable moments, or LOLcats, then you’ll no doubt
rearrange the little pieces of your heart to make some room for
Tullycraft and their new album, Every Scene Needs a Center. The
album starts with a quick burst of cuteness with the first song “The
Punks Are Writing Love Songs,” the sonic equivalent of two kittens
licking each other and asking “Scuze me, you haz flavor?” The band
continue to shower feel-good vibes, throwing their sharp, steady beat
and melodic bass lines in your face while Jenny Mears’s gleeful vocals
unapologetically balance on the edge of being too upbeat. MEGAN
SELING
FRIDAY 10/19
Broken Disco: Modeselektor,
Jacob London, Recess vs.
Introcut,
DJ Struggle, Nordic Soul, Electrosect, Makeout
Lounge,
Sound by Shameless
(Chop Suey) See Stranger Suggests, page 35.
Akron/Family, the Dodos
(Crocodile) See preview, page 63.
Benga & Hatcha
(Contour) First, much respect to DJ Struggle and the nascent dubstep
scenes at Nectar and the Baltic Room. It’s hard to draw interest to
something that is very far from the official cultural radar as dubstep,
a haunting amalgamation of two-step and dub. The sound of this new
music is an abstraction of the two-step beat that’s immersed in a
haunting sea or city of echoes. Benga and DJ Hatcha are two of the
leading producers of this music, which has its place of birth in London
and date of birth in 2004. This show will be the first major dubstep
event in Seattle. CHARLES MUDEDE See Bug in the Bassbin, page
85.
The Saturday Knights, The Whore Moans, Dyme Def, The Valley
(Sunset) It’s a heavy-ass dance fuckin’ FREAKOUT at the
Sunset—and I for one am very excited. The sound and energy of all
four of these crews inspire straight frenzy on their own, but on one
bill? Yo, if the Sunset had a chandelier, I would take that
motherfucker down immediately. The Knights’ joyous clap-along roadhouse
rap + the Valley’s sweaty psych-stomp + the Whore Moans’ heralded
break-your-neck garage punk + Dyme Def’s immaculate, chest-caving
swagger = Light Your Ass On Fire. LARRY MIZELL JR.
Galactic, Lifesavas
(Showbox at the Market) For a lot of reasons, most groups that try
hiphop with a live band fail; this is why there’s only one Roots. But
here we have a combination that just might work: future-funkers
Galactic fronted by veteran MCs Chali 2Na (of Jurassic 5) and Boots
Riley (of the Coup). For the past few years, Galactic have been
diligently tightening up their over-noodly tendencies—2003’s
Ruckus, produced by Dan the Automator, was hard-wired
electro-pop, and on their latest, From the Corner to the Block, they’ve pared down even further, playing the breakbeat-slinging backing
band to a roster of rappers, including the pair playing with them
tonight. It works surprisingly well as genuine hiphop, and so should
tonight’s show. JONATHAN ZWICKEL
SATURDAY 10/20
Matthew Dear’s Big Hands,
Mobius Band
(Crocodile) The first single from Mobius Band’s just-released
Heaven, “Friends Like These” is the thematic flipside to LCD
Soundsytem’s “All My Friends.” Where LCD’s James Murphy waxes
sentimental about growing out of good times past, Mobius Band’s Peter
Sax scoffs at the phony intimates he’s happy to leave behind. The song
is quintessential Mobius—a perfectly polished, synth-heavy gem
that matches hooks and beats in a subtle and uncanny composition. For a
while, the Brooklyn-based electro-pop trio was, along with Skeletons,
one of only two bands on experimental electronica label Ghostly
International; they’ve jumped to the more organic-leaning Misra Records
to release Heaven. That they’re a natural fit in either camp
says a lot about just how smart their stuff is. JONATHAN ZWICKEL
These Arms Are Snakes, Kane Hodder,
Destruction Island, Return of the Bison
(Hell’s Kitchen) These Arms Are Snakes dive and scramble all over
the stage. They climb things, kick things, spit, and scream. The show
is a siege. They are described as hard/mathcore. That’s calculus and
long division. So bring your Texas Instruments calculator, your flak
jacket, and your no. 2 pencil to the show—there’s going to be a
word problem: Singer Steve Snere is on a train heading east at 63 mph.
He spits off the train at 4 mph, right at you. You are standing still
and there is a westward breeze of 7 mph. How fast is the spit traveling
when it hits you in the face? TRENT MOORMAN
SUNDAY 10/21
Priests and Paramedics, Marrow, Zach Lombardo
Group
(Central Saloon) With the end of the year only a few calendar pages
away, you might think your inevitable year-end lists are coming
together. Two and a half months to go—hardly enough time for
anything so mind-blowing that it could remove one of your beloved
choices from its deserved position, right? Maybe. Before you get out
the stone-carving tools, remember there’s a slew of Seattle talent
still vying for a spot on your coveted top 10 local artists lists. And
while they’re still a little too green to push the Pleasureboaters or
the Whore Moans off my personal list, Seattle duo Priests and
Paramedics have definitely made some headway towards the top with their
aching part-singer/songwriter, part–dramatic shoegaze
experimental indie. If they can pull it off live, which can be decided
tonight in Pioneer Square, they might give my current number 9 or 10
the boot. MEGAN SELING
MONDAY 10/22
Final Fantasy, Cadence Weapon, Welcome
(Nectar) See preview, page 57.
Pinback, Frightened Rabbit
(Showbox at the Market) See Stranger Suggests, page 35.
Digitalism
(Chop Suey) While Justice and crew soak up the spotlight for their
brand of rock-infused techno, Digitalism are busy blowing out speakers
and overheating synths in the dark. Their remixes and originals are
instantly gratifying, full of clipped beats, mangled synths, and
robotic grooves. Their debut, Idealism, is one of the year’s
criminally overlooked dance albums. If they only had Pedro Winter’s
Rolodex and sample-clearance budget, they’d no doubt be rave-rocking
stadiums. But Digitalism’s relative obscurity is your gain, as their
live show should be every bit as damaged and deafening as Justice’s but
with probably more room to get down. ERIC GRANDY
TUESDAY 10/23
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, Quasi, the Intelligence
(Neumo’s) See Stranger Suggests, page 35.
WEDNESDAY 10/24
Thurston Moore, Scorces
(Neumo’s) Seriously, I don’t get why everybody seems to be using
words such as “poppy” and “melodic” as if this is some huge departure
for Thurston Moore. Sure, his new solo record has Samara Lubelski’s
violin all over it, the album’s guitars are occasionally acoustic, and
Thurston himself even plays piano on a few cuts. But the set is no
sudden moral shift to accessibility, as moments on Trees Outside the
Academy are every bit as noisy, abrasive, and haunting as, say,
“The Sprawl,” “Dirty Boots,” or any number of cuts from his catalogue
with Sonic Youth. Likewise, SY have been melodic since, like,
“Expressway to Yr. Skull.” Sure, Trees is hardly the squealing
dissonance-fest of some of Moore’s other one-offs like Mirror/Dash (or
his band’s SYR series of the late ’90s). But we can be thankful for
that, and appreciate this as a collection of music that fits right in
with the stirring, thoughtful work Sonic Youth have produced of late.
JOHN VETTESE
Junior Brown
(Tractor) In my younger alt-country days, I thought I was hot
alt-shit. Western-cut shirts and Too Far to Care—take
that, grunge upbringing! Eventually, a real country musician
will bust any young fan’s city-slickin’ cherry, and the man who undid
my pearl snaps was Oklahoma’s Junior Brown. Sun Records–era
influences, rockabilly hellfire, a throat like Skoal: He’s got those.
But it’s Brown’s onstage showmanship that puts him in a higher country
echelon. Watch him wind his fused guitar/lap-steel apparatus out of
tune for kicks, only to immediately wind it back and pick himself into
a frenzy. Hear him re-create the tones from Close Encounters on
lap steel. Feel the simultaneous pop of the crowd’s snaps. SAM
MACHKOVECH