THURSDAY 4/21


BLACK MOUNTAIN, FROG EYES, THE VELLS
(Neumo's) Now that he knows we like him in Seattle, Black Mountain's Stephen McBean just keeps coming back for more. And really, what's not to love? Sweeping Sabbath riffs cresting in Neil Young heartache and Zeppelin savagery--it's kinda like heaven. Vancouver's Black Mountain are skilled at taking all the best elements of classic rock--the drama, the bulldozer riffs, the beards--and channeling them into new music that's neither cloying nor about to keel over on its 15 minutes. Live, they're one of the best bands that's played Seattle this year. JENNIFER MAERZ

SOUND TRIBE SECTOR 9, DJ MIKE RELM
(Showbox) Known as a jam band with lots of funk in their trunk, Sound Tribe Sector 9 foolishly (or boldly, depending on your disposition) start their new album, Artifact, with a couple of dewy, maudlin ballads, geared more to make your eyes water than to get your groove on. One expects the tempo to increase, the beats to toughen up, the funk to get stronger, but that never really happens. Artifact revels in a post-coital languor, bathed in a soft, liquidy glow that evokes George Benson more than it does George Clinton. It's Weather Channel fuzak you can possibly romance to. Perhaps these dudes have mellowed a bit too much. STS9 have gone in an unexpected, but not entirely desirable, new direction. DAVE SEGAL

FRIDAY 4/22


ANTONY AND THE JOHNSONS, DEVENDRA BANHART, COCOROSIE, WILLIAM BASINSKI
(On the Boards) See preview, page 53, Data Breaker, page 73, and Stranger Suggests, page 41.

BLUE SCHOLARS, DECEPTIKON, AYINDE HOWELL, NORDIC SOUL
(Chop Suey) See My Philosophy, page 53.

VELVET REVOLVER, HOOBASTANK
(Everett Events Center) Maybe you're one of those people who still needs to believe that Guns N' Roses weren't total bullshit. Maybe you even make the case that Stone Temple Pilots were a misunderstood hit machine who made great tunes regardless of how bad they ripped off every other band. Maybe you think Velvet Revolver is a great band. But you have to admit: The video where Velvet Revolver all pretend to be a band (groupies, champagne, etc.), and then Weiland (was he always that skinny?) pantomimes OD'ing so that his bros can rush in and save him is the most shameless and immoral thing that has ever been on MTV. And that, my friends, is saying something. SEAN NELSON

TORI AMOS
(Benaroya) Tori Amos' latest release, The Beekeeper, is an hour-long douche commercial. The singer rolls around in the stinkiest puddle of mud since my dog discovered that turd pile at Volunteer Park--at least a bottle of strong shampoo can get rid of that smell on a family pet. But with Amos, the stench remains throughout her latest Hallmark-card fondue--the unbearable aroma of burning scented candles and reading self-help books, with Tori lost in a sea of unrepressed self-expression. The goddess is underfoot and should be stomped. JENNIFER MAERZ

SATURDAY 4/23


ANTONY AND THE JOHNSONS, DEVENDRA BANHART, COCOROSIE, WILLIAM BASINSKI
(On the Boards) See preview, page 53, Data Breaker, page 73, and Stranger Suggests, page 41.

CROOKED FINGERS, DOLOREAN, INARA GEORGE
(Crocodile) See preview, page 62.

NEW FOUND GLORY, REGGIE AND THE FULL EFFECT, EISLEY
(El Corazòn) See All Ages Action, page 75.

GRIS GRIS, INVISIBLE EYES, SLEEPY WORKERS, LILLYDALE
(Sunset) Like soul, psychedelic music is pass or fail… either you gots it or you don't. Well, like contemporary sike-sters Silver Sunshine--or to a lesser degree, Sweden's Dungen--the Gris Gris basically gots it. However, whereas Silver Sunshine and Dungen are more powerful Anglo/Euro affected, the Gris Gris are VERY American. They're like unknowing 13th Floor Elevators wannabes who ain't trying too hard to be EXACTLY like the Elevators and get it right. Imagine they're a buncha 15-year-old kids in, say, 1969, who have no idea how to score acid, but play what they THINK they'd play after having eaten handfuls of sugar cubes. So they kinda jam around their songs, but with more focus than just getting "out there." Oh, don't forget to dig the lovable Invisible Eyes too--thank fucking GOD they're keeping the garage rock flame flamin'! MIKE NIPPER See also Stranger Suggests, page 41.

JEFF SAMUEL
(SeeSound Lounge) There's nobody better to commemorate SeeSound's one-year anniversary than Ohio transplant Jeff Samuel. Not only is he a globetrotting DJ, Samuel also gets much love for his own productions from some of the world's savviest selectors, including Michael Mayer, Triple R, Ricardo Villalobos, John Tejada, and Akufen. His enviable discography grows further in 2005 with a new 12-inch for Germany's Trapez Ltd., Endpoint, which warmly coasts down the microhaus autobahn with a blooping buoyancy and vaporous melodic grace, as does his "Glurf" track off Samuel's recent mix disc, Poker Flat Volume 4. This set exhibits Samuel's seamless segues and induces hip-gnosis with understated bumpty-bump. You need what he's got in his DJ box. DAVE SEGAL

THE SPITS, THE NICE BOYS, THE AMAZOMBIES
(Chop Suey) What makes the Spits deserving of so much ink over the years? They're the party starters for a certain stratum of Seattle--those who drink hard, hit the old-school punk rock hard, and fight hard (in their songs, that is, you don't want to hit a band wrapped like tinfoil mummies). Their songs are vehement tirades against both the gentrification of the working class ("Take Back the Alley," "Shitty World") and basement pogo anthems ("Let Us Play Your Party"). Add in the fact that their fans are wildly enthusiastic at their shows (i.e., they move around a lot) and you're in good company at this one. JENNIFER MAERZ

STRATEGY, LOSCIL, NUDGE, GREG JASPAN, PAUL EDWARDS
(CHAC Lower Level) This Kranky Records showcase features three artists blurring the parameters of dub, IDM, and post-rock. Loscil (Vancouver's Scott Morgan) has issued three albums that traffic in wombient dub, offering balm to babies and overstressed nine-to-fivers. Strategy (Paul Dickow) takes his brand of dub to more rhythmically dynamic spheres. At a recent gig opening for Hood, he veered from his usual ganja-brewed ambience into hypnotic techno and glitchy funk with impressive authority. Strategy also plays drums for Nudge, a Portland trio who bridge the electronic/organic divide with acute attention to detail and deft instrumentation. Their third and best album, Cached, dishes out introverted funk with subtle dub touches a la Deadbeat, though at times it veers off into bizarre rhythmic convolutions and textural legerdemain recalling Can's Soon over Babaluma. This is some deep shit. DAVE SEGAL

PUFFY AMIYUMI, QUIET DRIVE
(Showbox) Reality-based crap like Making the Band excepted, TV shows about pop stars are best when both the musical act and their boob-tube vehicle are engineered at the same time. Japanese duo Puffy AmiYumi only recently got their own Cartoon Network series, Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi, but they were prefab from Day One (their meeting was arranged in 1995 by a management company). Despite their stock wardrobe of worn T-shirts and tattered blue jeans, they still came off like stylized anime creations in the press and on record. But in concert, Ami Onuki and Yumi Yoshimura tear into the sugar-rush pop-rock concoctions with such joy and abandon, you'd think they were the goddamn Ramones… with a wind machine and better merchandizing. KURT B. REIGHLEY

SUNDAY 4/24


THE DONNAS, THE SIGHTS, ROCK 'N' ROLL SOLDIERS
(El Corazòn) Silk scarves, nut-hug jeans, greasy locks, gutter glam and all--Eugene, Oregon fancy lads Rock 'N' Roll Soldiers at first appear to have dropped out of some wormhole from the tangentially New York Dolls-inspired days of 1982 hair metal. And the fact they're already on a major label seems similarly out of the blue. Only these boys have been forging their Stooges/Stones sword since they were pubescent, exurban backyard party-hunters. The first demo that got them inked--a Red Bull-stained Exile on Main Street slice 'n' dice (some of which appears on the new Two EPs (East West/Atlantic)--and their surprisingly busy tour schedule proves they've got something up their sleeves and under their jeans. ERIC DAVIDSON See also Stranger Suggests, page 41 and preview, page 63.

SPEAKER SPEAKER, SO SO MANY WHITE WHITE TIGERS, PARTMAN PARTHORSE, OVIPOSITOR
(Fun House) San Francisco-based rock band So So Many White White Tigers play bad-energy music with lots of ballsy guitar moves and floppy ta-tas a-swayin' in the wind. Singer Liza Thorn shrieks and squeals and spits beer on the crowd a lot and guitarist Ned positively shreds. I shit you not, the guy is the best guitar player in SF, except for maybe the dude in No Doctors. In the early '90s there were a lot of bands playing Sabbath riffs but with a punk aesthetic, meaning they spewed their fucked-up problems all over the crowd to the crash of loud guitars. These guys are like that, but no Sabbath riffs--more garage-y punk and bits of indie-rock wall of noise, like cock rock funneled through a DIY aesthetic, or something. Whatever it is one thing's for sure--something just ain't right with these kids, and So So Many White White Tigers were born to come to your town and freak you out. MIKE McGUIRK

THE KILLERS, TEGAN AND SARA
(Moore) The Killers' catchy, safe, synth-heavy pop is nothing entirely new or great, yet they're being celebrated as musical geniuses? I should hate them on principle. But I don't. And even though I'm not proud of it, I've been known to spin their debut, Hot Fuss, more times than I care to admit. They have danceable melodies that don't require much thought, much like a meaningless fling that gets you through the days. MEGAN SELING

U2, KINGS OF LEON
(KeyArena) When I was in high school, all of the kids on the God squad loved U2 almost as much as they loved their early-morning group walk through the halls (during which they would bless the school). The Bible-thumpers thought that being down with the alt-rock schmaltz delivered by U2 provided entry into the land of punkers, dope heads, smokers, and weirdoes--all of whom they would attempt to "save" through the Christian-friendly anthems delivered by Ireland's least interesting export. It was nearly as pompous and sanctimonious as Bono himself, and I would imagine that a fair amount of those PTL'ers will be in the Key tonight, pumping their fists and getting weepy when the band busts out with "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." KERRI HARROP

MÖTLEY CRÜE COVER NIGHT
(Sunset) A mere three months before the real deal rolls into White River Amphitheater, Mötley Crüe faithful who can't wait for a performance of Too Fast for Love can tailgate the Sunset this afternoon. The 4 O'Clock Rock series focuses on the hair-metal band/reality-TV star/DIY-porn aficionado combo as local musicians create "all-scar" lineups who will do entire Crüe albums. Dozens of hair follicles will fry for the cause. Spandex, lipstick, and fishnets strongly encouraged. JENNIFER MAERZ

MONDAY 4/25


NEW FOUND GLORY, REGGIE AND THE FULL EFFECT, EISLEY
(El Corazòn) See All Ages Action, page 75.

TUESDAY 4/26


FANTÔMAS, THE LOCUST, TREVOR DUNN'S TRIO CONVULSANT
(Showbox) See preview, page 55.

OUTRAGEOUS CHERRY, GLORIOUS, TWINK THE WONDER KID, BLACK NITE CRASH
(El Corazòn) A decade-plus after they first started swallowing the psychedelic-pop pills whole, Detroit's Outrageous Cherry are still tripping on the effects fantastic. Their latest disc, Our Love Will Change the World, dates its sound with the title, reveling in acid rock and bellbottom pop. It's a blissful ride in many ways--except that the daydreaming sound gets too lethargic at times, lulling you into a state that even handclaps and tambourines can't shake awake. JENNIFER MAERZ

WEDNESDAY 4/27


BRITISH SEA POWER, THE TURN-ONS, THE GLASSES
(Neumo's) See preview, page 60.

CHEMICAL BROTHERS
(Premier) See preview, page 59.

LOBE, MENDOZZA, MICO DE NOCHE
(Fun House) See Live Wire, page 65.

WEEZER
(Moore) I was once a Weezer fan. In 2001, I flew from Seattle to San Francisco to see them, where I stood in line for 10 hours to ensure a front-and center spot. During the opener's set, a stranger puked me on, but I refused to move (or wash the vomit from my hair and clothes). Today, though, that would never happen. Not because I'm older and wiser, but because Weezer are no longer worth stewing in vomit for. The new single "Beverly Hills" is terrible, and lately they're not the same band. Maybe Rivers caved to his craziness. Maybe the revolving bassists shook up the chemistry. Maybe, and most likely, they just couldn't live up to the expectations that followed Pinkerton and glorious B-sides like "Mykel & Carli," "I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams," and "You Gave Your Love to Me Softly" (and be fair, those were some high expectations). Now, Weezer is making the music that gets the simplest job done--these days, that ain't such a good thing. MEGAN SELING

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