THURSDAY 1/5

THE HELIO SEQUENCE, CRYSTAL SKULLS, WET CONFETTI
(Chop Suey) It's criminal what young bands get away with these days—shamelessly ripping off the Cure or the Clash or the Kinks 'cause their fans are too young to know better. The Crystal Skulls, on the other hand, know the difference between borrowing and stealing. The local quartet's far-flung influences mingle for a mesmerizing, imaginative sonic stew all their own, not another cheap imitation. Their debut, Blocked Numbers, feels like the Beatles and the Cardigans sharing a pint at the Regal Beagle in some unseen episode of Three's Company. The production is tidy but not slick, the melodies cute without being cutesy, the vibe retro yet schmaltz-free. And the record? Damn near perfect. MAYA KROTH

MOONCALF, DARLINGS OF THE LO-FI, BRYAN FREE
(High Dive) Mooncalf take more than a few cues from Built to Spill, from Matt Seacrest's Martsch-esque, high-pitched vocals to the hyperglycemic There's Nothing Wrong with Love–era straight-ahead pop. A few points for good taste notwithstanding, this promising trio will, let's hope, continue to build upon its most worthy influence. GRANT BRISSEY

JONNYX AND THE GROADIES, DOOMSDAY 1999, MIKAELA'S FIEND
(SS Marie Antoinette) In my own personal Circus-of the-Stars universe, tonight's show is pretty much a dream lineup. The underage antics of Mikaela's Fiend as documented on two 7-inches are nothing compared to their live steez, a puissant punch to the head via guitar effects galore and madman drum muscle. Their debut full-length is set for release on Strictly Amateur Films in spring 2006. Doomsday 1999's lineage as vets of Northwest groups like Teen Cthulhu, Nervous System, and Enemymine makes for thrilling hardcore shenanigans. Portland quartet JonnyX and the Groadies have weathered a near-decade with drum-machine blast beats, black-metal riffage, and Mr. X's throat-stripping howl. The Groadies are touring in support of their first actual CD, a self-released deal, the very mention of which has got saliva glands churning Pavlov-like. GEORGE CHEN

VENDETTA RED, THE DIVORCE, RAZREZ, EUPHORIETTE, THE YOUNG SPORTSMEN
(Neumo's) If you asked me a year ago, I would tell you I'm anti-Razrez. But once I taught myself to accept that these guys are perfectly aware of the fact they want to be a dirtier Duran Duran (with a little cocky Kiss attitude), it's much easier to embrace their new-wave-influenced rock, tight pants, and face makeup. As for the Divorce, it never took much convincing for me to know they were great. They are. And their new album The Gifted Program continues to back that up, as does their increasingly better live performance. Vendetta Red is the big band for tonight, but give the Divorce a few more months, and soon everyone will be opening for them. MEGAN SELING

FRIDAY 1/6

COPY, GALACTIC IONIZATION UNIT, ABSOLUTE MADMAN, DJN, FOURTHCITY DJS
(Lo_Fi) Portland producer Copy (AKA Marius Libman) resurrects the charming naiveté, sweetly romantic melodiousness, and nimble-footed rhythms of Reagan-era synth pop on his debut disc, Mobius Beard. Like many other twentysomethings, Copy strives to pay homage to '80s electro-pop pioneers. He does a competent job honoring the legacies of OMD, Yellow Magic Orchestra, and Yaz while also keeping a finger pulsating on current digital software developments. Copy (awful name to Google, bro) hails the release of his Mobius Beard CD with this gig. The disc's well produced, but the song title "Plagiarhythm" is perhaps too cheeky. DAVE SEGAL

THE SIDE PROJECT, BLUE CHECKERED RECORD PLAYER, THE HOPE, THE WITHHOLDERS
(Tractor) I've spent a fair amount of time swooning over dreamy male vocalists, but local duo the Hope have recently made me bat for the other team. Well, musically speaking, at least. Pretty piano and guitar compositions gracefully beckon the Cranberries and Tori Amos, while co-vocalists Shelby Earl and Katie Freeze perform strong but subtle melodies. Pairing them on a bill with Blue Checkered Record Player, Slender Means' Sonny Votolato's solo project, makes for an evening glowing with lovely local talent. MEGAN SELING

THE ADVANTAGE
(Paradox) You think your band is ambitious? Get a load of the Advantage, whose goal is to record "every Nintendo song by the time each member lie [sic] dead." Guitarists Ben Milner and Robby Moncrieff, bassist Carson McWhirter, and drummer Spencer Seim (AKA Hella's guitarist) attack the video-game company's back catalog with repetitive-stress-injury-inducing zeal. Rather than replicate electronic bleeps, bloops, and blorps via cheap synths, the Advantage play maniacally intricate prog-rock homages to themes for Castlevania, Double Dragon, Super Mario Bros., etc. This California act should push some nostalgic buttons in many a gamer—but tastefully so. DAVE SEGAL

SATURDAY 1/7

GREG DAVIS, SÉBASTIEN ROUX, YANN NOVAK, BIRD SHOW
(Gallery 1412) See Data Breaker, page 35.

DISTURBED, BLOOD SIMPLE
(Paramount) Some musicians wait until they become stars to start imitating asylum inmates and making monkey noises, but Disturbed's David Draiman was down with the sickness from the start. At small-club gigs in 2000, a straitjacket-clad Draiman was wheeled onto the stage in a gurney, unleashing a bizarre "yeh-ka-ka" yelp when a roadie removed his muzzle. Anyone who caught that tour knew Disturbed would be on arena stages soon, because bands that put that much effort into presentation—and don't care about appearing idiotic—are usually ambition driven. Also, there's something oddly magnetic about the band's staccato structures and raw, primal outbursts. ANDREW MILLER

SLEEPYTIME GORILLA MUSEUM, SECRET CHIEFS 3
(Neumo's) An offshoot of madcap eclectics Mr. Bungle, Secret Chiefs 3 fracture genre clichés with more stoic intensity than do their parent band. Imagine soundtrack genius Ennio Morricone conducting a wedding band at a Turkish circus, with all the musicians stoned out of their minds on kif... and then they proceed to bust out Middle Eastern–inflected, psychedelic, drum 'n' bass jams. Interludes of death metal and maudlin gypsy balladry also surface. Guitarist Trey Spruance, bassist Trevor Dunn, and drummer Danny Heifetz are fluent, versatile players who don musical personae with cunning alacrity. Expect much stylistic schizophrenia and cliché inversion. DAVE SEGAL

MIKE HUCKABY
(Baltic Room) From his position as dance-music wax buyer for Record Time, Mike Huckaby served a crucial function for over a decade as educator/enabler for hundreds of Detroit-area DJs—and touring jocks, as well. But beyond that vital role (which reportedly is now kaput), Huckaby also maintains a busy, globe-spanning DJ schedule. Huckaby told Detroit's Metro Times that he "hated to see house and techno so divided," so he encourages people to notice "the similarities rather than the differences." Expect just that in what should prove to be a veritable history lesson during this rare Seattle appearance for Huckaby. DAVE SEGAL

THE DIVORCE, WHITE GOLD, STABMASTERARSON
(Crocodile) For a band that's evidently as studied as StabmasterArson is in greats like Mission of Burma and Devo, this local trio has done just as much to carve out its own sound in the current sea of retro-rock regurgitation. Slinky bass lines, taut percussion, economical guitar, and gnarled vocals work toward a propulsive sound that doesn't borrow too heavily from any of StabmasterArson's influences. GRANT BRISSEY

2006 ELVIS INVITATIONALS
(EMP) Elvis Presley, through the infernal machinations of legend and myth, has inexplicably become all things to all people. He's a sex symbol, a role model, a musical genius, a war hero, probably even somebody's personal messiah. The King made it okay for whites to like black music by putting a pretty face and a twirling pelvis to the ramshackle hum of the Southern blues. Though in later life he spiraled from ignominious addictions to an infamous death, there is no greater icon in American music than Elvis Presley. Who else but he could sustain a thousands-strong worldwide legion of devout impersonators, all of them duty bound to emulating his iconic dress, nuances, and body language? Kenny Loggins? Dan Fogelberg? The answer is no one but Elvis. The Cult of Anachronistic Impersonation congregates tonight at EMP for the 10th Annual Elvis Invitationals. MC Cathy Sorbo will guide the rhinestoned contestants in a cantankerous Mass, each one belting their Presleyan gospel while the ace Memphis Mafia all-star band compels the funk right out of you. It's a contest where the winner is you, the curious bystander. On every head a ducktail, on every lip a scowl. ROBIN PECKNOLD

REEL BIG FISH, GOLDFINGER, ZEBRAHEAD, BOTTOM LINE
(Showbox) Reel Big Fish fired a preemptive strike with its first single, "Sell Out." The hero of this smart, cynical tune has his doubts about the music industry, but he reasons it must beat working in fast-food joints. "Don't Start a Band," one of several self-deprecating tracks from 2005's We're Not Happy If You're Not Happy, finds singer Aaron Barrett wondering if he made the right choice. We're Not Happy darkens ska's congenitally cheerful tone with distorted guitars and downward-slanting horn melodies. On the bright side, Reel Big Fish remains successful while most of its erstwhile ska-punk peers have returned to drive-through windows. ANDREW MILLER

SUNDAY 1/8

I've seen better.

MONDAY 1/9

Surrender to the void.

TUESDAY 1/10

You are excrement, but you could be gold.

WEDNESDAY 1/11

COMMON MARKET, CANCER RISING, SPECS ONE, MACKLEMORE, DJ RISK ONE
(Chop Suey) The mind of RA Scion, the rapper for Common Market, produced one of the best rap lines of 2005, which is in the closing song, "Doors," for the solid CD Common Market: "Evidence of life is represented by the art/The body returns to dust, the soul to the South Bronx." Hiphop has a soul, a source, a purpose, a specific beat—in short, it has an essence. And this is what RA Scion strives to achieve at every opportunity: the essence of the art. Common Market is as pure as hiphop can get. It is based on the traditional DJ and rapper relationship (whereas most hiphop these days is all about the rapper). RA Scion sticks to a clear agenda: revolutionary politics, the history of hiphop, the state or condition of the local scene. And DJ Sabzi's beats are made from the concrete of "that old boom bap," as Q-Tip once called it ("The boom, the bap, the boom bap."). Hiphop is Common Market; Common Market is hiphop. CHARLES MUDEDE