LICK: ANNA OXYGEN, MASTER STAN, FAGOLIS, SAPPHO
(Chop Suey) See Stranger Suggests, page 19.
DIERDRE, DJ DAREK MAZZONE
(Nectar) Ekova's former vocalist Dierdre Dubois has gone solo with her sporadically interesting debut, One (Six Degrees). Singing with a brassy, full-bodied voice akin to Deee-lite's Lady Miss Kier, Dierdre seductively belts over lively worldbeat-inflected dance numbers and cafe au lait songcraft (including a ballsy if flawed cover of Moody Blues' "Nights in White Satin"). She uses a mix of English, French, and her own invented language that matches the music's multilingual sophistication. Tonight Dierdre will have two laptop producers who also play electric guitar and bass and handle visuals. DAVE SEGAL
TEGAN AND SARA, DITTY BOPS
(Crocodile) I've been accused of being a huge sissy girl, and of walking around with circus music constantly blaring in my head. Both of those things may be true, but they're not the reasons I love the Ditty Bops record. I love it because it's theatrical, old-timey pop with whizbang melodies, crackerjack instrumentation, shades of vaudeville/cabaret (more Nilsson/Monkees than middle period Waits), and all the dainty graphics you could want. BUT, their music also hints at a naughty underbelly, with a vaguely vulgar streak peeking through the artful artifice ("piss is the color of tears") and the super-girly vibe. This show, even though it's an opening set for boring duo Tegan and Sara, should clue the curious into which side of the camp fence this highly promising act falls. SEAN NELSON
EDDIE AND THE HELLDREGS, CHINESE FINGERCUFFS, THE SHUT-INS
(Fun House) The only thing subtle about Chinese Fingercuffs is… okay, you know what? There's nothing subtle about these guys. Period. The local cock-rock act cranks the showbiz stuff past 11, dressing like Turbonegro tussling with Springsteen, tying scarves of American flags to the microphone stand, the whole nine yards. It's the kind of performance that you'll either have to soak up in all its kitsch or leave for more understated bands like, say, the Darkness. Did I mention the mirrored cop sunglasses? JENNIFER MAERZ
IN PRAISE OF FOLLY
(Rendezvous) In Praise of Folly kicks off their tour tonight, with a scaled-down band consisting of the two original members, Peter and Benjamin Verdoes. I hope this means the band is getting back to its roots, with soft, lilting guitar melodies intertwining with the occasional spatter of drums or soothing vocals. They are currently recording a new record, and aiming for a late spring/early summer release date on Lujo Records. ARI SPOOL
NINA HAGEN'S 50TH BIRTHDAY, GUESTS
(Neumo's) "I create ecstasy in my work. I know who I am, and I am willing to declare it to the world: I am a star!" Thus spoke Nina Hagen on her 1983 new wave hit "New York, New York," neatly summing up her role in pop music for over three decades. Like David Bowie, Afrika Bambaataa, and Sun Ra, the East German-born "mother of punk" is a citizen of the universe, not just some short-lived insect scurrying around our dying blue-gray planet. With a stratospheric vocal range that reflects childhood operatic training--including a growling lower register that makes Mercedes McCambridge's demonic turn in The Exorcist sound like Julie Andrews--Hagen has been turning rock and dance music on its head since adolescence. More recent recordings have seen her delve into classical Indian chants and, for her 2004 CD, Big Band Explosion, standards like "Over the Rainbow," so only God (or Shiva) only knows what she has in store for this 50th birthday celebration. Regardless, Hagen is one of the most explosive performers to ever hit a concert stage--she must be witnessed live to be believed--so miss this once-in-a-lifetime event at your own peril. KURT B. REIGHLEY
FRIDAY 3/11
HIGH ON FIRE, YOB, AKIMBO
(El Corazòn, late) See preview, page 31.
THE FRAMES, MARK GEARY
(Crocodile) American audiences' ambiguity toward the Frames is puzzling, because this Dublin-based act share key elements of their sound--symphonic string arrangements, sensitively phrased vocals, and dramatic dynamic shifts--with such successful Irish imports as Snow Patrol and Damien Rice. Unlike those soothing crooners, the Frames occasionally take their guitars off safety, unleashing artfully staggered solos and assertive percussive flourishes. Glen Hansard's fragile, fractured falsetto turns to a resilient roar whenever the band's crescendos crest. Live, the Frames recall the arena-throttling ambitions of U2 at its most anthemic, and they weave song snippets from artists such as Johnny Cash and Bob Marley into their elegantly extended instrumental passages. ANDREW MILLER
GUITAR WOLF, THE RUBY DOE, PLASTER
(Chop Suey) A Guitar Wolf show is cause for a goddamned riot in the streets. The kings of no-fi, scuzzy garage filth have successfully taken back the night and made it their own so many times, it's a wonder we're not walking around in broad daylight all the livelong day. Does it even matter what the group's most recent album, Loverock, sounds like? Here's a clue, anyway: it pummels, it destroys, it rebuilds, it gives birth, and it makes a family there. It's completely self-contained. It's also the filthiest thing since Chuck Berry started hanging out in the ladies' room with a camera. It's primordial punk whose closest compatriots are not up on stage, but buried in the goo-goo muck down in the La Brea tar pits. Just go already. JON PRUETT
BILL HORIST
(Gallery 1412) Local experimental guitarist Bill Horist needs to raise some cheddar for his April tour of Japan, where he will play with prog-pysch heavyweights like Ruins' Tatsuya Yoshida, Acid Mothers Temple's Kawabata Makoto, and KK Null (Horist's disc with the latter, Interstellar Chemistry, is amazing). That ain't a cheap endeavor, so he's staging two solo sets tonight. The first will focus on Horist's seldom-heard acoustic work, which was inspired by his visits to various small towns across the globe. The second will spotlight his attempts to channel the universe's weirdest sounds by applying odd gadgets to the strings and tapping, plucking, and massaging them with improvisational fervor. Know this: Horist erects one bizarre Twilight Zone of sound. DAVE SEGAL
MOUNTAIN CON, THE TURN-ONS, SLENDER MEANS
(Neumo's) Cinematic bands are creeping into the local landscape with increasing abundance, but the Turn-Ons are one of the leaders in that field. And what field is that exactly? An opium-rich poppy field, a strawberry field (forever), a field of dream pop and shoegazer/space rock, and a field flowering with bright, lush melodies. And now, a field that includes "dance," as reports from TO HQ have leaked that there is more of a "dance thing" going on with the new songs they're recording. A warning that you may have to move around at this show--more than just making your way to the bar and back. JENNIFER MAERZ
STEVE PORTER
(Last Supper Club) New England DJ Steve Porter comes to town supporting his new album, Homegrown (FDS), which is packed with Melba-toast progressive house untouched by any sort of darkness of the mind or spirit. That being said, Porter executes a killer bass line in the vibrantly chugging "Beat N' Potatoes" and generates some acidic momentum in "Square Dancing," so respect. Still, while dance-music journalists wax hyperbolic about Porter, all I hear is an adequate purveyor of conveyor-belt prog house that's lightly seasoned with cheese and saccharine. Where's the beef? DAVE SEGAL
SATURDAY 3/12
KAISER CHIEFS, THE ORGAN, MU MESON
(Crocodile) See preview, page 31.
SLINT, TARA JANE O'NEIL
(Showbox) See preview, page 29. See also Stranger Suggests, page 19.
ASAHI (LAST SHOW), DREW VICTOR, LILLYDALE, ADVANCED BEGINNER
(Kirkland Teen Center) In the midst of a week full of changes (James Keblas leaving the Vera Project, the Punkin House leaving all of existence), I got an e-mail from Tomo of Asahi informing me Asahi is also moving on, noting that this is their last show. Asahi, who were once audience choice for cutest band in Seattle some years ago, have a couple dreamy pop tunes available for free download at Myspace.com--for those not already familiar with their sweet indie compositions. MEGAN SELING
KINGS OF CONVENIENCE, FEIST
(Neumo's) Forgive me if I cannot be objective about the Norwegian duo Kings of Convenience. Since hearing their first CD, I've been in love with Erlend Oye and Eirik Glambek Boe. Their latest effort, Riot on an Empty Street, could not evoke the somber mood of Simon and Garfunkel more if they tried. If KoC perform their beautiful cover of A-ha's "Manhattan Skyline," I will die a happy man. But wait. It gets better. The band is touring with Canadian singer/songwriter Leslie Feist. She was Peaches' roommate, hung out with Gonzales and Louis Austen, and is part of the ongoing collaboration that is Broken Social Scene. Her smoky, cabaret style fits in perfectly with tonight's headliners. I'm so happy, I may cry. TERRY MILLER
THE VELVET TEEN, CROSSTIDE, THE NEW TRUST, SILENT SCRIPT
(Vera Project) The Velvet Teen and the New Trust are two Bay Area bands who make beautiful, melodic, powerful rock music with the kind of vocals that are always being described by the word "soaring." That term usually means it's a dude with strong projection who can comfortably sing in a high range, but in this case, it actually means that the vocal melodies fucking soar. So there's that. Silent Script is the new band from former Prom-meister James Mendenhall, who has reportedly returned to the NW after decamping to Nebraska when his former band ended. Nice one, yo. Welcome back. SEAN NELSON
SUNDAY 3/13
BLACK MOUNTAIN, ONEIDA, KINSKI
(Crocodile) See Stranger Suggests, page 19.
TOTAL EXPERIENCE GOSPEL CHOIR
(Century Ballroom) See Border Radio, page 27.
MONDAY 3/14
M. WARD, NORFOLK & WESTERN, CORRINA REPP
(Tractor) See preview, page 27.
TUESDAY 3/15
M.I.A. & DIPLO, KID HOPS
(Chop Suey) See Stranger Suggests, page 19, and preview, page 27.
WEDNESDAY 3/16
CRYPTOPSY, CATTLE DECAPITATION, THE AUTUMN OFFERING, ONLY HUMAN, BELT FELT WEAPON
(Studio Seven) Cattle Decapitation's Humanure cover depicts a cow excreting a fecal flood. Every element of this image ensures absolute repulsion. Its lyrics, communicated in harsh, garbled yowls between blurry blasts of noise, describe foul stenches and oozing bodily fluids in equally disgusting detail. All of this stomach-churning shock value serves a noble purpose, because these San Diego-based vegetarians hope to take the "meat" out of "metal." Humanure, or one of the band's scathing sets, just may scare the hamburgers out of the hands of headbangers. ANDREW MILLER
