COUSTEAU, BLACK ANGEL
(Showbox) See Stranger Suggests p.24.

VERONA
(Downtown Borders) With its big, melodic sound, Verona is an underpraised band in Seattle. Singer Kyle Logghe has an impressive range and his band is capable of conveying a great array of emotions spanning the gap between R.E.M. and the Promise Ring. If you appreciate good songwriting and passionate musicianship, you should check out this surprisingly unpretentious band. KATHLEEN WILSON

FAST HORSE SUMMER HOOTENANNY w/CeDELL DAVIS, TUATARA, THE MINUS 5, THE WAYWARD SHAMANS
(Crocodile) I must admit when I saw the words "Summer Hootenanny," "Tuatara," and "The Minus 5" on a two-day bill at the Croc, I assumed that this was just another good-old-boys jam session led by Scott McCaughey and Barrett Martin. There's certainly nothing wrong with that, but a collective throw-down with the Fresh Fellow and the Percussion Yoda isn't exactly a rare event. Luckily, Mr. McCaughey filled me in on the more pertinent details: The Minus 5 are on the bill because members McCaughey, Martin, and Peter Buck played on the forthcoming record from headliner CeDell Davis, a 74-year-old Delta bluesman. Davis was previously signed with Fat Possum Records, but is now with Fast Horse Recordings, a newish label run by Martin and fellow Wayward Shaman Joe Cripps (with some A&R assistance from Buck). These shows kick off a national summer tour of the four cross-pollinated bands, who are thrilled to be sharing the stage--a virtual guarantee this will be an extraordinary show. HANNAH LEVIN

COBER, WINDOW PANE, XXXAUDIO, ALTA MAY
(Graceland) At first glance, the diminutive Sheila V. Bommakanti seems like an unlikely frontwoman, but then she opens her mouth, and this incredible husky voice pours out, seemingly out of nowhere. Bommakanti's vocals are at the forefront of Cober's material, which lurks in a dark space somewhere between the Cure and early R.E.M. She whispers, breathes, belts, and howls, all of it perfectly timed and on-key. The best part, though, is that you can enjoy Cober's songs on multiple levels. Whether you're treating your ears to Bommakanti's melodic guitar work or appreciating the deeper meanings of her lyrics, you needn't give up one form of enjoyment in favor of the other. The music's moody but evocative, and it doesn't succumb to a sense of self-importance, which tends to plague this particular subgenre. After releasing Crashpilot in 2000, Bommakanti is currently recording a second record, Breaker, with new bandmate Lelani LaGuardia. GENEVIEVE WILLIAMS

BLÖÖDHAG, BOBBIT, ME INFECTO
(Sit & Spin) You probably already know this, but BlöödHag is a band that plays very short, tightly constructed metal songs, each of them bearing the title of a science-fiction author (my favorite is "Isaac Asimov"). Some might see this as a limiting, irony-drenched shtick, but it usually comes off as quite fresh and earnest. What you probably don't know is that at a recent show, my friend Ian was hit in the head with a book (thrown from the stage as part of the educational component) so hard that he bled. The book he was hit with is called Quas Starbrite, by James R. Berry. It begins like this: "He stood there, hating as he waited. Far below, along the broad avenues that terraced the city, squads of Dark Horde warriors marched in stilted, staccato steps." COLIN BOOY

THE BAND THAT MURDERED SILENCE
(Café Venus) The latest, leanest lineup of local troubadour Colin Spring's band may finally be the one that showcases his great songs in the clearest light. Spring is one of the city's best songwriters and deserves the renown given similar figures like Rosie Thomas and Joel R. L. Phelps. He writes something like punk-rock sea shanties with a Pogues-like approach, brilliantly combining Springsteen's Nebraska with Ziggy Stardust and his own brand of post-millennial working-class realism. His 2000 record, Meet the Sea... or Be Washed Up, on Seattle's Homerecorded label, is a raw classic, and the new songs are even better. Spring may be one of those obscure geniuses who skips a big-label recording deal and goes straight to a Guggenheim grant. His shows somehow have both the intimacy of a fireside sing-along and the epic sweep of a big show by a beloved, veteran artist. GRANT COGSWELL

JUCIFER, CRICTOR, GUESTS
(Graceland) The last time Jucifer came to town, frontwoman Amber Valentine put the crowd under a serious rock spell. Maybe it was her blank, drugged stare, pancaked makeup, and female-drag-queen costuming. Maybe it was the way her siren-song vocals snaked between the crushing blows of her sludge rock riffs, or maybe it was the fact that the stage was lined with so many goddamn amps the crowd was stunned into place, helpless to do anything but gawk at the sheer noise unhinging our most vital organs from their natural resting spots. The Athens two-piece plays heavy, and tonight they're matched with Crictor, kindred spirits from the instrumental metal world. JENNIFER MAERZ

THE BREEDERS, POSTER CHILDREN, THE BANGS
(Showbox) My love affair with the Breeders began years ago, under the sweltering sun of George, Washington. I was 13 years old. Kim was 33. Sure, I'd heard that rolling radio phenomenon "Cannonball," and borrowed my friend's Bossanova cassette, but the Breeders were little more than a footnote in the spectrum of performers at alt-rock's alter--Lollapalooza 1994. That was until I saw Kim. From that moment on, we were inseparable. All right, so she's a little manish, but from Pod to Last Splash, and through the entire Pixies catalog, her musical grip continues to tighten. I stood patiently through the Amps fiasco, gobbled every guest vocal spot, just waiting, waiting for the day that the Deal sisters would return triumphant--always secretly fearing the inescapable disappointment of such high expectations. After a nine-year wait, my prayers were answered in the form of Title TK. And you know what? It ain't bad. The record's a little indulgent, sure, and by no means worth the years of production that went into it, but if it can withstand nine years (!) of expectation, it's got to be all right. ZAC PENNINGTON

CAPITOL HILL BLOCK PARTY
(Pine St and 11th Ave) Why should you love the Capitol Hill Block Party? Let me count the ways: the Catheters, Teen Cthulhu, the Briefs, Automaton, the Epoxies, Federation X, the Long Winters, New Luck Toy, Pretty Girls Make Graves, Jackie Hell, Ursula Android, and so, so, so much more. By the end of the weekend, there's a good chance you'll be ready for a full week of silence, but with so many great bands for a mere eight bucks ($10 day of show), there's little chance of anyone but cranky snobs not getting their money's worth. JENNIFER MAERZ

DAMIEN JURADO, BEN GIBBARD, DAVE BAZAN
(Crocodile, early show) Damien Jurado released a new record, I Break Chairs, earlier this year. Dave Bazan's band, Pedro the Lion, released a new album, Control, earlier this year as well. But the most recent release from this stellar trio comes from Death Cab for Cutie's Ben Gibbard. Some time ago, under the name All-Time Quarterback, Ben released an EP of the "can't take it out of the CD player on a sunny day because it's so goddamn good" variety. And now DCFC's label, Barsuk Records, has taken that EP and paired it with more "long lost" Gibbard material. The result is a mixture of sometimes clunky, sometimes melodic sounds from broken toys and shoddy instruments, all blended with Gibbard's endearing trademark vocals. It sounds as bright as the sun, though not to say that the heart-tugging ballad doesn't exist, 'cause it does. Gibbard will play some of this material tonight, no doubt, and you really shouldn't miss it. MEGAN SELING

MEN OF PORN, NEB!
(The Monkey Bar) Neb!'s debut full-length, Elk, is an excellent collection of dissonant, unhinged punk. The local act storms through a hysteria-driven frenzy of crazed hardcore screaming, sharp guitar rhythms, complicated drumming patterns, and an overall speedy Jesus Lizard/Drive Like Jehu vibe that gets four bright, shining stars in my mind. My only complaint is with the lyrics: For every good song ("Binge and Purge" is a "Feel-Good Hit of the Summer"-like list of recreational drugs), there's a dull stab at cheap humor (come on, a song about Vagisil?). Luckily, most of the lyrics dissolve in a jet stream of vitriolic delivery, where words are vaporized by the intensity with which they're delivered--and instrumentally, the music comes from the demented, brainier side of punk noise. Also on the bill are Men of Porn, a great San Francisco experimental metal act, along the lines of High on Fire meets the Melvins. JENNIFER MAERZ

CAPITOL HILL BLOCK PARTY
See Saturday's listing.

THE POSIES, CHRIS VON SNEIDERN
(Showbox Green Room) For some reason, most smart, well-crafted pop tends to be long on brains and short on feeling--making for very nice, clever, and ultimately chilly songs. Not so with Chris Von Sneidern. This Bay Area artist has delivered several albums' worth of beautiful gems that score as high in emotional aptitude as they do in the intellectual department. (What do you expect from someone whose entrée into the Seattle scene came from patron saint and longtime supporter John Wesley Harding?) If you've ever spent time pondering why the record-buying public gobbles up disposable pop fluff like Britney's "Hit Me Baby (One More Time)" instead of equally catchy, far more durable and intelligent tunes like Freedy Johnston's "Bad Reputation," you're ripe for conversion. Catch Von Sneidern tonight before he heads back to San Francisco, or wherever he's off to next. BARBARA MITCHELL

CALVIN JOHNSON
(Easy Street Records, Queen Anne, 4 pm) So what's up with Calvin Johnson? During Dub Narcotic Sound System shows he never sings anymore. In fact they don't really play songs anymore; they just "jam." And he's always wearing those clunky, retro headphones. The headphones in particular lead me to a theory: "Calvin Johnson" is not, in fact, a person, but the site for two competing tendencies. One (we'll call it "Johnson") is precise, mechanical, and soulless; the other ("Calvin") is organic and soulful. This second force is operative on the new solo album, What Was Me. You'll have to really like Calvin's bullfrogish voice to enjoy it. There are, however, a few standout tracks ("Love Will Come Back Again," the duet "Ode to St. Valentine"), and I was able to kick it alone on my back porch, listening with beer in hand, with fair to good success. COLIN BOOY

CALVIN JOHNSON, DENNIS DRISCOLL
(Café Vita, 8 pm) See listing above.

CALVIN JOHNSON
(Sonic Boom Records, Ballard, 5 pm) See Monday's listing.

CALVIN JOHNSON, OLD TIME RELIJUN
(CoCA, 8 pm) See Monday's listing.

THE DISHES, THE POPULAR SHAPES, THE THERMALS
(Graceland) The women in the Dishes come on strong, with a whole lotta attitude. The Chicago band's brand of garage rock strips down the guitars to their primitive punk best, adding just enough jangle to give their most recent record more hip-shaking rhythm than fist-shaking rumble. Frontwoman Sarah Staskauskas uses her snotty vocals to tease, taunt, and tempt, but she's got both brawn and brain working to her advantage, as she tells the boys off on the sarcastic "Girls Can't Play," and conducts her own role-playing games on "The Fight." Like the Gore Gore Girls, and, to some degree, the Stuck-Ups, the Dishes mix a raw punk sound with a smirking attitude--a quick-moving combo that sneaks its hooks in from the get-go. JENNIFER MAERZ

LAURA VEIRS, CHRISTIAN KIEFER
(Tractor) I haven't had much luck lately with technology or the U.S. Postal Service, so imagine my surprise when the unholy combination of the two yielded one of the more surprisingly intriguing artists I've heard in ages. It started with a random e-mail from someone who was pointed in my direction by someone else, asking if I'd mind if he sent along a copy of his friend's recording. A few days later, the postman delivered a package containing 11 songs from Laura Veirs, and I'll be damned if the CD hasn't strayed far from my stereo since. Sure, it was produced by Tucker Martine and features appearances from names like Amy Denio and Bill Frisell, but it's Veirs' songwriting and voice (which sort of manages to bridge the gap between Gillian Welch and Eleni Mandell at times) that carry the affair. Original and affecting, it's music that's built for the long haul. Highly recommended. BARBARA MITCHELL

YES
(Paramount) I try so HARD to encourage happening Yes parties at my desk. I play, loudly, Fragile and Relayer, but mostly Yes. Seriously, that first LP... ain't it a mofo!!! But... no one hangs out... "too busy with deadlines" they say... uh-huh. Anyway, I only saw Yes once in the mid '80s, which I know ain't quite the "classic" lineup.... SO, knowing I got cheated, well... kinda, NOW I think I may be redeemed. Hell, uh... YES... Anderson, Squire, WAKEMAN (!), White, and Howe are featured on this tour! And... AND they are NOT playing to the suffocating vastness of the Tacoma Dome or the Gorge, they're playing the fucking Paramount!!! Yeah, perfect... it ain't TOO big, but rather snugly and cozy for a band you wanna be able to SEE without a helping video screen!!! MIKE NIPPER