WINDOWPANE, GAS GIANTS, TSAR, LAST GREAT LIAR
(Graceland) It happens this time every year--out of left field comes a truly delightful power-pop album just in time to qualify for summer soundtrack status. Last year it was from Fountains of Wayne; this year it's from L.A.'s Tsar. Their self-titled debut is full of instant sing-along classics with names like "MONoSTEReo" and "Calling All Destroyers." It's occasionally glammy, often irreverent, and utterly contagious. Did I mention that it's fun? And addictive? And that it rocks? Beware, you'll probably require pliers to remove the disc from your stereo and some kind of miracle to get the songs out of your head. BARBARA MITCHELL

DJ RAP
(Last Supper Club) A little anecdote: My friend Tom once shared a producer with Charissa Saverio (a.k.a. DJ Rap), and things got nasty when she objected to not having that producer fully to herself. It culminated in Tom and his bandmate sending her studio a constant barrage of photo faxes from her topless modeling days. Nasty and misogynistic? Yes. It's hard to imagine the average male DJ having to put up with that particular kind of humiliation. The flipside, however, is Calvin Klein ain't bangin' down Tom's door asking him to do a CK Dirty Denim ad. As averse as I am to attributing a woman's success to her looks, Rap's blond bombosity has certainly helped sell a few records. She's been around for over a decade, and has certainly done her time on the scene; the few times I've seen her, however, I've come away thinking only that she's an enthusiastic and competent, if not outstanding, DJ who looks really hot without a bra. If you want to talk beautiful women in jungle, Rap's certainly not the only one; try the U.K.'s Dayzee and the late Kemistry, and even Seattle's own Eva--all gorgeous, capable women who are simply good, not good "for a girl." LEAH GREENBLATT

DIAMOND FIST WERNY, THE DROP, FIVE GEARS IN REVERSE
(I-Spy) If Sky Cries Mary were too eclectic for your taste, you might want to steer clear of I-Spy tonight, 'cause Diamond Fist Werny make SCM look positively mainstream by comparison. The band's new album, Long View to the Sky, should come with a road map: Each song ventures off into previously uncharted waters (Jethro Tull meets Tuvan throat singing? World music goes grunge?). It's, um, intriguing to be sure, but no more so than trying to figure out what the hell they're doing on a bill with two indie pop bands. BARBARA MITCHELL

AXOLOTL
(OK Hotel) Two weeks ago Axolotl were slated to headline the Earshot Jazz session after Collin Skerritt. Well, Tom Skerritt--yes, the very same Picket Fences and Poison Ivy celebrity--showed up to see his son, but did he or his son stay to see Bill Horist? No. Too bad, 'cause they might have learned something about how music is constructed. Not that Axolotl played. Dennis Rea was in the hospital with an infected gallbladder. Instead, Ghidra, another Bill Horist outfit (named after the three-headed monster who does battle with Godzilla) created a brilliant tapestry of noise with a toothsome texture, depicting a war waged between monsters. KREG HASEGAWA

RUSTON MIRE, SKYWARD, FIREBRAT
(Showbox) See Stranger Suggests.

MODEST MOUSE, LOVE AS LAUGHTER
(Showbox) By the end of this you'll know whether the rumor is true, that Modest Mouse's new album, The Moon & Antarctica, actually surpasses 1997's The Lonesome Crowded West. This is nearly unimaginable: Three years later, TLCW is a landmark. No rock record of its scope and vision has been attempted with any success since Daydream Nation, maybe Zen Arcade. As a comprehensive epic, it dared to address the sea changes of our place and time that will outlast us: the suburbanization of the rural West and the dwindling of the middle class. No rock band has ever made such a historic and intimate portrait of the lives of a people. The Clash were once called "the only band that matters." If that assessment stands, Modest Mouse are already more important than any band since. Prepare for something legendary. GRANT COGSWELL

HEATHER DUBY, SHIVAREE, JIM ROLL
(Tractor Tavern) Yeah, right. Everyone will be at Modest Mouse. ERIN FRANZMAN

HANUMAN, THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS, ROCKIN' TEENAGE COMBO
(Crocodile) Like contemporary blues, contemporary jazz in many respects seems to be about mixing it up--doing stuff to the music to remind listeners that this is edgy, exciting listening, not something that your grandparents listened to (even if they did, says she who recently inherited her grandfather's entire collection of Duke Ellington LPs). Locally speaking, few bands are better at this than Rockin' Teenage Combo; as their name implies, they're a lot of fun. No less so are the Living Daylights. It promises to be a good evening all around. GENEVIEVE WILLIAMS

BLINK 182, BAD RELIGION, FENIX TX
(The Gorge) This is Top 10 punk rock, battling it out with Britney and Pink on TRL every afternoon for the top spot. Blink are basically the newer, younger, dumber Green Day, now that Billy Joe and Co. have gone off and had kids and stuff. It's the kind of punk rock that fills the Gorge on a prime-time June weekend--unabashedly poppy and full of hooks, gleefully adolescent, and embarrassingly fun; they put famous porn stars on their record covers and mock the boy band sexy-wind-machine/coordinated-dance-routine thing with relish. They're kind of like that gross guy whose way of flirting in junior high was to throw spitballs at your hair and burp the national anthem, but you secretly drew his initials in your notebook anyway--so just toss your pride and go. But remember Endfest: Keep your shirt on. LEAH GREENBLATT

NATALIE MERCHANT
(Chateau Ste. Michelle) Whine, whine, WINE. Somehow, seeing the overly earnest Natalie Merchant (the former singer from 10,000 Maniacs, for anyone who's been living under a rock for the past decade or so) at a winery makes sense--partly because the whine/wine pun adds a little levity to Ms. Merchant's overly serious, overly intellectual trip, partly because she'll make pleasant background music for sipping chardonnay, but mostly because if you want to see her drone on and on and on, you SHOULD have to go out of your way. BARBARA MITCHELL

THE VANDALS, BIGWIG
(Graceland, early) In A.D. 406, the Germanic Vandals crossed the Rhine and invaded the Holy Roman Empire. By 428 they had looted and pillaged Gaul and Spain, and begun to infiltrate North Africa. The tribes quickly gained control of the region, and continued their bloody rampage until 455, when they reached the gates of Rome itself. They sacked the weak city, and ran amuck until 533, when Justinian destroyed their forces and reclaimed Rome. Gelimer, the last king of the Vandals, is said to have murmured as he groveled at Justinian's feet, "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." The Vandals have come a long way since their days as ruthless barbarians. They tour the U.S. in a van and put out punk rock records. They have been quoted thusly: "America stands for freedom/But if you think you're free/Try walking into a deli/and urinating on the cheese/Anarchy burger/Hold the government!" JUAN-CARLOS RODRIGUEZ

SIXTEEN DELUXE, ORANGER, VOYAGER ONE
(Graceland) Where to begin? How about with Sixteen Deluxe's lovely new album, Vision Take Me Make Me Never Forsake Me. It proves that this Austin band knows how to temper their love of noise and guitar textures with such old-fashioned ingredients as melody and actual songs in a way that other bands only wish they were capable of. Then we can move on to S.F.'s supremely rockin' Oranger, whose brilliant album Doorway to Norway is full of slightly psychedelicized gems with titles like "Mike Love, Not War," and should rightfully have been at the top of multiple top-ten lists last year. And we haven't even touched on our own Voyager One.... BARBARA MITCHELL

BLACK CAT ORCHESTRA
(Elysian Brewing Company) It's been a few years since the Black Cat Orchestra were a fixture in the bar at the OK Hotel and at summer fundraisers where a bit of class was called for. I don't know where the hell they've been since 1997, but it's good to have them back. Their sultry Eastern European aura will make the tall room of the Elysian darker and smokier than it's ever been: If the Pogues were a bunch of refugee intellectuals traveling through Weimar Germany disguised as a Gypsy circus troupe, they would have sounded like this. GRANT COGSWELL

SLOW RUSH, BLYSS
(Crocodile) One look at the band names on tonight's bill and you might (justifiably) think you'd been transported back in time to L.A. circa The Decline of Western Civilization: Part II (The Metal Years). Slow Rush? Blyss? Unfortunately, there probably won't be anything as remotely entertaining as talentless metal bands declaring their inevitable ascent to rock stardom, or members of W.A.S.P. getting wasted in their parents' pool--just generic glam/industrial/pop/rock and the most sparkly clothing you've seen in one place since the last majorette competition. BARBARA MITCHELL

BOB DYLAN, PHIL LESH, STRING CHEESE INCIDENT
(The Gorge) Chugga-chugga chugga-chugga... choo-choo! The post-Garcia gravy train rolls on. But why is Bob Dylan on board? JASON PAGANO

MODEST MOUSE, CALIFONE
(Showbox) See Friday's listing.

EXPERIMENTAL MUSIC FESTIVAL w/ THEREFORE, TORO SEC TORO, THE MICROPHONES, INTONARUMORI, DORK STAR, THREE TEATED GOAT, HANGNAIL 8, SPHERES
(The Voyeur, OLYMPIA) If you're an Olympia reader, or have access to a car and a place to crash in Olympia, then you should go see this whole shebang. If not, don't fret too hard, because Seattle's own Improv Fest is just around the corner. Intonarumori is one of these "experiments" that is not an experiment at all, but a truly successful project by Unit Circle masthead Kevin Goldsmith. KREG HASEGAWA

THE CHIEFTAINS
(Chateau Ste. Michelle) Anyone who's ever spun a reel or danced a jig knows about the Chieftains. These more or less official ambassadors of Irish folk music came to prominence during the folk revival of the 1960s and never left. They've been going at it for so long that many of them are grandfathers, but they've lost neither their touch nor their sense of humor. As a result, the Chieftains aren't just for purists; they have something to entertain everyone. In an era when every other thing has the word "Celtic" stamped on it, and you've got people doing trance remixes of traditional Irish music (distorting it almost to unrecognizability in the process), it's nice to know that the Chieftains are still around. GENEVIEVE WILLIAMS

THE LOCUST, ARAB ON RADAR
(I-Spy) The Locust swarms from San Diego, blackening the sky. It encrusts crops in a living exoskeleton, and leaves decimated land as a parting gift. As it disappears into the sunset in a thunderous buzz, the victim on the farm can only say a quiet prayer for the next town the Locust stops in. In a similar fashion, Arab on Radar flies from town to town, confusing yokel air traffic controllers and frightening novice pilots out for a Sunday spin. JUAN-CARLOS RODRIGUEZ

BLOOD BROTHERS, ORCHID, RED SCARE, AKIMBO
(Paradox Theater) The Blood Brothers aren't old enough to shave, and already they can see it all: heartbreak, solitude, wealth and meaninglessness, war, and working a dumbass job that requires you to act all day until even in your private moments your life is a performance. They know about the half-second in which the body still does what it's told, disappearing as it is acknowledged, the bitter compromise of being in the world, the thankless option of departure. Adolescence is dragging them through that half-second now, and they're screaming for all it's worth. GRANT COGSWELL

NEW WET KOJAK, DISTORTION FELIX
(Crocodile) See Stranger Suggests.

SUNNY DAY REAL ESTATE
(Showbox) It's entirely possible that Sunny Day Real Estate have pioneered a new genre with the release of their lovely new album, The Rising Tide: prog-pop. If that tag sounds unappealing, at least their music doesn't; if anything, the band has refined its sweeping, emotionally charged college rock into something that's both concise and complex, emotional and cerebral. The result may leave legions of kids in corduroys dazed and confused, but open-minded listeners will be dazzled and delighted. BARBARA MITCHELL

OF MONTREAL, MARSHMALLOW COAST
(Crocodile) Let's put it this way: You're either in the mood for "cute" or you're not. There's something "nice" and "cute" about Of Montreal's amateurish proceedings that conjures up images of elementary school talent shows, or the Elephant 6 collective. Whether you consider that good or bad is entirely subjective. BARBARA MITCHELL

CARISSA'S WEIRD, BILLY SHOOK, RIVER DON'T RISE, BROWNETTES
(Crocodile) I'm the lucky duck who, after begging, pleading, and throwing a little tantrum of which I'm not too proud, got an advance copy of the Carissa's Weird album. And lemme tell ya, they're even better when you can hear all the parts! Which you usually can when they play the Croc, where the sound folks turn up shy Jen's mic so her voice--a more tender Sinéad O'Connor-like wail--can wend its way around Mat's and weave the drowsy spider web that is Carissa's Weird's charm. ERIN FRANZMAN

FONTANELLE, SIGNAL DRIFT, KNOCK-OUT DROPS
(Showbox) From Kranky, the label that brought godspeed you black emperor! to the world, and Portland, the city that brought the Mercury to the world (thrice), comes Fontanelle. With ex-Jessamine members Andy Brown and Rex Ritter, this arty quartet creates dynamic, evocative, and playful compositions that sound modern, smooth, and spherical--like mini-scores to the never-ending film that runs in your head. ERIN FRANZMAN