THE CHURCH, MARK KOZELEK
(Crocodile) There are dream bills, there are bills that make you feel like you must be dreaming, and then there's this one--which is a little of both. While it looked like the Church was going to meander off into the sunset, it recently snapped back with a new album (After Everything Now This) that's as gorgeous, mesmerizing, and--most importantly--coherent as earlier gems like Remote Luxury. And while it's a pretty safe bet that they'll roll out "Under the Milky Way" to appease the fair-weather fans, it will be fascinating to see which of the band's two decades' worth of shimmering, narcotic pop gems sees the light these days. The angelic-voiced Mark Kozelek (of the impossibly beautiful and understated Red House Painters) on the same bill? Too perfect. BARBARA MITCHELL

KID606, JAMIE LIDELL, GOLD CHAINS, BOBBY KARATE
(I-Spy) Gold Chains is fidgety electro-punk with a hard-on for strong-armed beats and slap-ya-ass raps, so step the fuck back. The one-man act is part of the art-damaged laptop set, and he's no computer geek. Chains--née Topher LaFata--has a voice like Colin Quinn and rhymes that roll like a Pinto with busted breaks. On his eponymous debut for Orthlorn Musork, Chains aims for "groove domination," claiming, "I got the bass degree, it's my Ph.D., compliments of hard beat university." He keeps the fist-pumping thumps heavy, and streamlines the samples, adding lightning strikes of reggae, dub, or trashed-up techno as he cracks the codes on hiphop and busts a move on the freak-floor. JENNIFER MAERZ

LAURA VEIRS AND DANNY BARNES
(Tractor Tavern) With dulcet-voiced determinism Seattle's Laura Veirs sounds like a cross between Suzanne Vega with some target practice under her belt and Snakefarm's Belgian chanteuse Anna Domino. The strange hypnosis of her album The Triumph & Travails of Orphan Mae opens up matrices of memory and emotion, offering dusky refuge from troubling loves and losses in the lilt of her voice. Ruminations and telling details creep forward with a murmuring immediacy. This is art-song country, and I mean that as a high compliment. Producer Tucker Martine and Veirs place the instruments with the precision of a jeweler creating a wedding ring. Not that it's too pristine. These diamonds aren't rough but they will rough you up. It's a heart-stilling and beautiful album and its translation to live performance will be a pleasure to hear. NATE LIPPENS

THE MIDNIGHT EVILS, THE PISTUNS, X-NEARLY DEADS, THE MEXICAN BLACKBIRDS
(Industrial Cafe, Georgetown) I guess these dudes are playing far away for all of us who like to stumble home from shows, but if you like scrappy hard rock that sounds wily like Nashville Pussy, abrasive like the Catheters, and mean-fucking-spirited like Motörhead, the Midnight Evils are a good bet. I know the whole garage-trash thing is getting more cramped than a pet store's rodent cage, but this Minneapolis band's eponymous debut is pretty close to flawless. It rides the punk/metal borderline so fast your head'll spin. Plus, Ghetto Records owner Jim Diamond (the Dirtbombs, Bantam Rooster, the Von Bondies) produced the music--and would he touch some shitty, second-rate act? Hell no. Check out the Midnight Evils 'cause they're feeeral. JENNIFER MAERZ

NO. 2, THE CAROLINES
(Liquid Lounge) EMP has decided to put its cocktail lounge to good use and make the space a venue for something other than "an evening with" a solo artist and his or her acoustic guitar. Tonight two Oregon bands perform: No. 2 features Neil Gust, formerly of Heatmiser, and members of the Maroons and Jr. High; the Carolines out of Gladstone are teeny little boys who must think Herman Jolly (Sunset Valley) and John Moen (Maroon's singer) are Pop Gods. KATHLEEN WILSON

THE CRIPPLES, STUDFINDER, PAXIL ROSE
(University Library) Dewey decimal system be damned. The University Library's all-ages shows happen with more sporadic frequency than they used to, but they pack a wallop. It's a long way from the acoustic strumfests with cookies-and-chatter that library musical events usually are. This free show promises a stellar lineup from start to finish. With power-pop crackle that recalls the late great Sarge, Paxil Rose is fronted by a gifted 15-year-old girl whose hard-candy songs show the thin line between frustration and delirium. Audacity and velocity are the main ingredients for Studfinder, which seems to be a perennial bridesmaid in the Seattle music scene. The band makes a layered racket that bristles with sly menace and pained knowingness delivered with a ferocious bash and crackle. The Cripples have more than a great name going for them: The band's tent-revival new wave hot-dogging burns brightly. They are experts at art-school cultural pirating with a contrarian streak that is playful and anxious. NATE LIPPENS

HALOU, PLASTIQ PHANTOM PEOPLE, DJ STEPHEN WILLIAMS
(I-Spy) Halou's sophomore album, Wiser (Nettwerk), invokes comparisons to bands like Portishead and Mazzy Star, but despite the obvious influences, the San Francisco triphop trio stakes out some relatively unexplored territory in the ethereal, dream-pop landscape. Vocalist Rebecca Coseboom whispers in secretive and sensual tones, bringing a warm and emotional depth to her husband Ryan's chilly electronic compositions. Her lyrics sound like the languid poetry of a lovesick schoolgirl at times, but her gorgeous voice breathes wounded sincerity into the words, especially in songs like "Political" and "Oceanwide." And the band also shows an edgy versatility on "I'll Carry You" and "Feeling This Is Like to Fall Awake," where Rebecca reveals a smart and smoldering anger. DAVID SLATTON

LIGHTHEAVYWEIGHT, THE SWORDS PROJECT
(Crocodile) With an acceptable dose of melancholia and a vocalist whose faux-Brit-accented timbre shuffles from sounding like Robert Smith to Bono to Morrissey, Lightheavyweight's pop music will transport you to Dave Kendall-era 120 Minutes whether you like it or not. It's decent stuff, actually, written well if a little sloppily, but fairly innocuous and charming enough to grow on you. Less populace-oriented is Portland's the Swords Project, which is just coming off a full U.S. tour. Its arty, orchestral dynamics (via violins, Rhodes, and guitars, not to mention some hot double-drummer action) have earned it comparisons to both Mogwai and Godspeed, but mostly what sets the band apart is its affinity for linear songwriting--though its songs are vast and dramatic, there's still a lot of structure to rein in all the dark prettiness being pumped out. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

QUASI, SARAH DOUGHER, MOUNTAIN GOATS
(EMP/Sky Church) Melancholic rage--or indifference--informs all of Portland duo Quasi's albums. Harmonies soar and dip, and sparkling pop barely disguises the anguish and retirement that makes Sam Coomes and Janet Weiss' songs so hilarious--marvelously grumbly and romantically determined at the same time. On Quasi's most recent album, The Sword of God, the ire is turned up a notch; the desperation heads toward resignation rather than defiance, and the sadness swings lower than ever before. The music twinkles with bright orchestral backdrops and bird sounds, making it all sound so pretty as it reveals an increasingly menacing quality, a clamoring anger. KATHLEEN WILSON

CAPTURED! BY ROBOTS, BEARSKIN RUGBURN, CRICTOR
(Sit & Spin) Anyone who's been in a dysfunctional band hits the point where his or her buddies become assholes. Former Blue Meanies/Skankin' Pickle bassist Jay Vance got fed up with musicians who showed up late/loaded to practice or bitched about songs, so he decided to re-christen himself JBOT and form a five-piece band where he was the only human member: Captured! By Robots. The futuristic metal act is composed of four mechanical beings: guitarist GTRBOT666, drummers DRMBOT0110 and her "offspring" AUTOMATOM, and the tambourine-playing Ape Which Hath No Name. JBOT claims the robots "enslaved" him soon after he built them, forcing him to perform wrapped in chains while they verbally berate him--except Ape, who lays the compliments on thick. The robots' movements and noisemaking are still kind of crude, but the overall feat this band accomplishes is definitely something that must be witnessed to be believed. JENNIFER MAERZ

ROBERT WALTER'S 20th CONGRESS w/special guest FRED WESLEY
(Chop Suey) Listening to keyboardist Robert Walter's latest CD is a nostalgic '60s-soul-jazz pleasure from start to finish, due in no small part to the truly badass veterans who guest on the record. But I find it hard to recommend as a purchase given the vast array of vintage reissues out there. However, Walter's timeless jazz-funk-boogaloo directions are easy to prescribe in live doses, especially when presented in their proper "nightclub" context. Mr. Walters may be more of a faithful re-creator than a relentless innovator at this point in his promising career, but when it comes to cookin' up a soul-food party with trombonist Fred Wesley (James Brown, Parliament/ Funkadelic), one of the funkiest men who's ever lived, ya just can't go wrong with a classic recipe. JAMES KIRCHMER

THE SHINS, FRUIT BATS, BUSY SIGNALS, TREASURE STATE
(Graceland) If you're a fan of slightly cracked songwriting, Fruit Bats is your newfound favorite band, the perfect companion for people who appreciate the warped realities and easily caught melodies of headliners the Shins, or Kingsbury Manx. Those of you who like to work a little harder for your rewards, namely Modest Mouse fans, will find the same kind of hairpin-curve lyricism and musicianship in Fruit Bats, whose creator, Eric Johnson, takes great joy in creating songs whose textures are a slubby cloth punctuated with smooth patches: Sweet harmonies create peace among quietly chaotic jumbled sounds. KATHLEEN WILSON

MINUS THE BEAR, PIEBALD, SUNDAYS BEST, AUDIO LEARNING CENTER
(Paradox) Cross emo with Mr. T Experience's Dr. Frank and you've got a pretty good idea what Piebald is all about. Nobody likes a whiner (no, that can't be true, or Interscope wouldn't have shelled out the big bucks to purchase Vagrant Records), but a sardonic, self-effacing one is the spoonful of sugar that emo occasionally spits out in its fits of twenty-something angst. Piebald's new album begins with an ode to its dearly departed tour van and goes on to ruminate about road trips, day jobs, boredom, isolation (yawn), rich girls, and apparently anything else the band finds interesting long enough to write a throwaway song about. Fun to listen to but ultimately not memorable, demonstrating that even sugar doesn't make the genre satisfying. KATHLEEN WILSON

PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES, SPECIAL GUESTS
(Theater Off Jackson) To celebrate its ridiculously brilliant new CD on Lookout Records, Pretty Girls Make Graves, that five-piece indie/punk supergroup we've penned many a kind word about (including this here blurb), is throwing a show for the kids. That's perfect, since Pretty Girls is all about energy, and no demographic is as energetic at rock shows as those under the legal age. Joining Pretty Girls as of press time is the amazing/horrible Special Guests, a mysterious group/groups that alternates between hot and cold, depending on the night. Sometimes they're great, sometimes they suck--but then, surprise is the sweet nectar of life, so either way you can't lose. BRADLEY STEINBACHER

SUB POP ANNIVERSARY PARTY W/GUESTS TBA
(Crocodile) Well, Happy Birthday, Sub Pop. Now that the record label is 14 years old, that means it's just hitting that awkward stage--you know, zits, talking back to authority, sloppy make-out sessions in the schoolyard, lawsuits--but who wasn't a complete tool at 14, right? Not that Sub Pop folks are tools by any means. After two-plus decades, they've helped launch some of the best bands in the '90s and again in the new millennium, and branched all over the punk/pop map. Now they're throwin' a big ol' party with some big ol' bands I can't tell you about--it's a surprise (but not that much of a surprise--supposedly the lineup will be announced at www.subpop.com). All I can say is, it's gonna be fun, and a portion of this event's proceeds will benefit the Vera Project, an organization dedicated to helping the kiddies through music. Yee-haw. JENNIFER MAERZ

LADYBUG TRANSISTOR, ESSEX GREEN, JAMES WILLIAM HINDEL, WIMBLEDON
(I-Spy) Ladybug Transistor's horn-laden pop is not something one could call innovative, as it's so deeply mined in Jimmy Webb, Hal David, and Burt Bacharach. But in the ever-expanding orch-pop genre, to find a band so dedicated to its influences that it would never dream of outright ripping them off, but rather merely tribute their beloved glory, is a cause célèbre. KATHLEEN WILSON

We thought your band was supposed to play!

EDITH FROST, CARISSA'S WIERD, CENTRAL FALLS
(Graceland) Edith Frost's debut, Calling over Time, showcased her cool, clear take on Americana shaded with minor-key melodies reminiscent of an earthier mid-'70s Joni Mitchell. Its follow-up, Telescopic, was an atmospheric affair that displayed a bleary, introverted psychedelia similar to Syd Barrett and Skip Spence. With Wonder Wonder, Frost finds the balancing act between the sounds of those albums, more in league with her 1999 single "Love Is Real." The dozen songs are subtly powerful, implying emotional depth rather than spelling it out. In person, Frost's gossamer voice retains its otherworldliness; it's alt-country from an alternate universe. She creates her own atmosphere with a sonic palette of skeletal arrangements that are the perfect bed for torchy balladeering. NATE LIPPENS